Powerpuff Girls: New Generation
by LJ58
Summary: The girls are all grown up now, but things are not sugar and spice anymore. What happened, and can they reclaim their former childhood happiness? Not if an old enemy has anything to say about it.
1. Chapter 1

No, I don't own any rights to these three characters, or their supporting staff. I'm just writing a story based on their adventures in an alternate future.

_**The PowerPuff Girls--New Generation**_

_**By LJ58**_

Her name had been Buttercup.

She was just one of three, small, powerful little girls that had waged war on crime in the city of Townsville. Their childhood home. And for such a small town, it had more than its fair share of villains, madmen, and would-be world conquerors. One megalomaniac chimp came to mind right off the bat.

That was then. This was now.

She didn't call herself Buttercup any longer. That name had been left behind with her childhood, and her sisters. Out of habit, she still favored green, but that was just because it was a good color on her. She sighed, and looked out the window, and wondered what her sisters might be doing now.

A part of her protested, not wanting to care.

They had all split up after the Professor's death a few years ago. Bubbles had taken it hardest. By then, though, they were already coming apart. Growing up was making them realize they had more interests, and dreams than just flying around pounding on wannabes.

"Betty," a familiar voice cut into her daydream. "Take this up to the twenty-fifth floor, would you," Sandra Martinez asked her, the stocky woman handing her a thick file. "Mr. Owens needs it at once."

"Yes, Mrs. Martinez," she nodded, and rose from her desk where she had stacked her last piece of typing on the corner of her desk ten minutes ago.

As one of the secretarial pool, she earned enough to help her get through the usual bills, and pay for her night classes at the local university. Considering she did cheat a little, she still couldn't feel too bad about typing faster, and more accurately than any of the other girls.

As she took the file, and headed for the elevator, she smiled as she remembered the first time the supervisor had found her daydreaming at her desk. She had just did three hours work in thirty minutes, and was staring at the bluebirds flitting about the window outside on the twentieth floor of the business that employed her. Sandra had been ready to cut into her, as she scolded any other lazy 'college girl,' until she started sifting through her typed papers, letters, and other assignments, and realized she had actually finished every one of them.

Since then, she also used 'Betty Flowers for errands that she knew would be run just as efficiently, without her dawdling to gossip, or kill time any other way. She pressed the floor she needed, nodding at the supervisor as she held the files to her chest, her very ample chest some of the men in the office murmured, not realizing she could hear them whisper a mile off.

It was funny, even though she was trying to live a normal life, trying to get the education she needed to follow her dream of becoming a real crime fighter by joining the FBI, or something like it, she still couldn't deny her powers. They made life easier, and sometimes she had trouble holding back when part of her still wanted to launch herself into the air, and howl with the thrill of battle.

Those days were gone, though.

She had a real life to deal with, and as she stepped off the elevator to head for Mr. Owens life, she knew she had better get focused, or that life would be a lot more difficult without a job. And she already knew she absolutely hated waiting tables. That job had lasted about one hour. The time it took for one moron to swat her bottom. Just before she tossed him through the window. And fifteen feet through the air.

That had not gone over well at all.

She had been lucky everyone believed her cover story about being a martial artist.

Stopping at Mr. Owens' own executive secretary, she offered the file, telling her simply, "Mrs. Martinez sent this up."

"Just take it on in," she was told by the iron-haired woman that ruled the twenty-fifth floor, and guarded the boss' office from any and all. "He's expecting you."

She frowned. This was new. Usually she dropped off the files, whatever they were, and was sent back down to her own desk. She nodded, keeping her smile, and headed for the door to knock before she entered even if she was expected.

"Come in," she heard, hearing a distinctive voice of the man who ran the company. A man she had seen from afar many times, but never actually met.

"Ah, Ms. Flowers. Do come in," he gestured as she opened the door, and approached his desk.

"You wanted this file, sir," she asked.

"Indeed, I did. I also wanted to see you."

"You did," she frowned.

"Yes, I did. I wanted to personally see the miracle worker who managed to salvage a fifty million dollar deal that almost sank without our knowledge."

"I don't understand, sir," she frowned.

"I'm told you're a very fast, very accurate typist, Ms. Flowers," James Owens smiled at her.

Betty sighed. He was handsome enough, she supposed, but she was used to people leering at her, thinking her breasts measured her IQ, and her sexuality. "I do my job, sir," she told him firmly, setting the file down on the desk between them.

"Yes, you do.

"Yet you also managed to do much more than that.

"Three days ago, someone lost the Ferguson Prospectus. Not only lost it, totally botched a lot of the critical information involved in a certain project that was key to a very valuable contract.

"Imagine our surprise when it showed up on your desk, where it was apparently fully corrected, and ready for presentation."

"Oh, that," she nodded, remembering the names now. "I just noticed a few of the calculations were off, and so corrected them the same as I would any other mistake in correspondence I'm doing," she shrugged.

"A few calculations. And you did them in your head?"

"Well, yes, sir," she nodded. "They weren't that complicated."

"No? Ms. Flowers, I have a full research department still trying to understand how a low-level typist did in a few hours what they worked on to no avail for over three months.

"You wouldn't be a ringer, would you," he smiled.

"No, sir," she said firmly. "I'm just a secretary."

"Just a secretary," James grinned, looking his charming best as he flashed her a winning smile. "Sure you're not a physics student, or closet genius?" "I'm just taking night classes," she told him. "In criminology."

"That's a peculiar direction for a secretary to take," he commented.

"I've always been interested in law enforcement," she shrugged. "I'd like to get into some aspect of it someday."

"All right," he drawled. "A crime-fighting secretary with superior reasoning skills. You could do worse," he smiled. "I don't suppose you'd like to take a look at a few problems I have here," he asked, holding out a small sheet of paper.

"Just a kind of….unofficial test," he smiled.

"To be honest, I'd like to know what this is for, sir," Betty asked uneasily.

"As I said, an unofficial test," he smiled, still holding out the paper.

"Fine," she sighed, and took the paper.

"Just sit down anywhere," he gestured around his office. "And do what you can in…..say, five minutes."

Betty eyed him, then the paper, and went to a low couch before a glass coffee table after snatching a pen from his desk. He arched a brow at her decision as she sat down, eyed the paper, and saw nine complex equations on the sheet she lay in front of her on the table.

Complex, of course, unless of course you had been created, raised, and educated by someone like Professor Utonium. His level of genius went beyond most people's understanding of intelligence, and his ability to genuinely think way outside the box, as Blossom used to say, was why he had also been an independent researcher. For who else would have come up with a nameless, regenerative nannite-based serum he called simply _Chemical X_. The very serum that had created her, and her siblings.

In three minutes she finished the last equation that seemed to deal with some aspect of quantum physics as far as she could tell from the incomplete sections of the equations she was handed. She rose, taking the paper back to him, and dropped his pen back into the holder on his desk as she handed him the paper.

"Is that all, Mr. Owens," she asked him blandly, sure that Ms. Martinez had her desk covered with new work by now.

He was looking through the file as she walked over, and he arched that sardonic brow again as he closed the file, and took the paper. He glanced over it, and his silver eyes rounded as he studied her responses to the problems.

"You really understand all of this?" "Basic quadrilateral equations," she shrugged. "I would guess, and say it was an attempt to exploit quantum theory for some new research, but the fragmented equations are complete enough to figure out what direction you're heading," she told him.

"Good…..God," James rasped as he stared at her. "And you say you're only a secretary," he exclaimed.

"Temporarily," she nodded as she sighed again. "I should be getting back to my desk now, too," she added. "So, if there isn't anything else…..?" "Go on. I may want to speak with you again, later, though.

"What are you doing this evening?" "I have class," she told him. "I believe I mentioned night classes."

"Right. I don't suppose you could miss tonight….."

"Big exam. I can't blow it off," she told him.

"Right. Well, later then," he told her.

She nodded, and left. She did have work to do, and she liked her desk cleared before she went home. It was part of a deal she had made with herself when she took the job. She had often been accused of never getting organized, or getting things done properly, let alone working well with others. Well, she had proved she could be, and do all those things, and more. And she had done it without her sisters.

She sighed, thinking of Blossom and Bubbles, but then she ruthlessly pushed those thoughts aside, and stepped off the elevator to head for her desk. She had work to finish after all, then she just had time to get in a bit of last minute studying before she took her finals tonight.

Just three last tests, and she would have a Bachelors' in criminology. It was a start, and it would help her apply for more and better positions closer to her ultimate goal. In the meantime, she still had bills to pay, and that meant getting to work.

_**PPG**_

Betty stepped into her small apartment located on the top floor of the crumbling, old brownstone that was barely the size of her old closet at home.

Still, it was her home now. Her place. Her battered couch. Her bookshelf overflowing with books. Her little bedroom, and sagging, bunk bed. Yep, it was all hers. She sighed, settled onto the couch, and switched on the radio. The strains of a popular classical rock station filled the room as she sat there, unwinding, and letting the day's stress fade.

She had just made it to the third test, and she was certain she had passed it as well as the first two, but for some reason the professor of that particular class had taken an instant disliking to her. She supposed he was just a misogynist, since she was one of only two girls in the entire class, and the other was a brainless blonde who just wanted the credit to pad her resume, and she even acted like the airhead she was, kissing up to the old man to get her grade, and get out, as she put it.

Betty kissed up to no one. She did her work, and she went home. End of story.

It didn't help the man kept trying to make advances to her, certain that, like all girls in the night classes, she was just looking for a free ride, or a sugar daddy.

It obviously upset him to find out she was looking for nothing but a degree.

She had thought he'd give up by now, but she should have known better. The vile, old lecher.

Still, it was his fault that she had finally lost her temper after all these years of swallowing it. His fault that what happened earlier tonight had happened.

She wondered if she had blown her secret even as she recalled when he stopped her, telling her to come back after everyone else had left.

She should have known better.

The old man had actually tried to blackmail her into an affair with him. Her grade on the test for a date. And he made no secret about what kind of date he expected. She had burned with fury. Five years of saving, working hard, and doing everything just right to earn her degree, and this old lecher was going to ruin all her plans. Her hopes and dreams. She lost her temper in one, tense moment of staring at that smug, old parasite who eyed her so arrogantly.

Less than a heartbeat later, they were a hundred-fifty feet in the air, and she was holding him up by his ratty jacket, her green eyes sparkling with the power locked within her innocuous frame.

"Listen, you old fart," she had growled at him in the same tone once reserved for that troublemaking monkey. "You're going to give me a fair grade, and you're going to let me pass, or I'm going to hunt you down wherever you go, and you won't like what happens next.

"Because if you blow this test for me, I will have absolutely _nothing_ left to lose.

"Absolutely nothing," she had growled as she pulled him within an inch of her furious visage.

"Which is just what on this earth could stop me from getting to you.

"Do we have an understanding," she had demanded, using his own vile words against him.

"I asked," she had begun, finishing with, "Do we have an understanding," after she had dropped him, and caught him just ten feet from the ground.

He could only nod as she set him down, a suspicious dampness at his crotch dribbling down to form a pool at his feet. Another eye blink and she had reclaimed her books from the classroom where she had burst through that one open window since the school didn't waste AC on night classes. A furtive glance around had proven no one had seen her as far as she could tell.

Now, sitting in her own apartment, she realized she could have handled that old fart more discreetly. Okay, so she did still have a temper. But she had been pushed just about as far as a woman could be pushed. She was certain there were tons of girls out there that would have loved to have treated that old man like that, if not worse.

Still, a part of her now regretted her actions. It had been a guilty pleasure, and she knew it.

She sighed heavily as she stared around her empty apartment.

"Okay, so I do still have a temper," she told the empty room. "But just a little one," she amended.

Besides, she had been careful to check the area before, and after her outburst. No one had seen her. She was safe. She was pretty sure of that.

_**PPG**_

She groaned as the news was full of reports of a flying girl over the university the previous night, sparking comments of unauthorized experiments, illegal aliens from waaaaay out there, and even underground superheroes who were trying to stay under government radar so they wouldn't be overwhelmed by law suits in today's court-happy world.

Still, there were no pictures. No direct eye-witnesses who didn't sound as if they had just come off a bender, or worse. Just vague reports from around the campus in the vicinity of a certain frat house noted for partying till the last second before they had to face class.

She snapped off the small black-and-white portable she used to watch the news and weather, and sighed. She had gotten lucky. Hopefully, she'd stay lucky, and that old professor would just give her a fair grade, she'd get her degree, and then she could move on. That was the plan.

Meanwhile, Saturday stretched out before her with far less to do than usual, since all she had to do now was wait until the mailman delivered her grades, and her degree. She considered a movie, but frankly, nothing she had heard of being out sounded all that entertaining. She had her usual breakfast, five eggs, sausage, toast, and juice. She had to keep her energy up, after all.

She was still planning her first free day in what seemed years when a knock sounded at the door. She was frowning as she headed for the door, tightening her belt around her robe since no one ever climbed the long steps to reach her dinky apartment. It was another way of keeping unwanted visitors at bay, and maintaining her privacy.

Apparently, someone wanted to see her pretty badly to climb all those steps.

She opened the door, genuinely surprised to see James Owens standing there in casual dress, and smiling ear-to-ear. "How's my favorite secretary," he grinned. "Did you pass your exams?"

"I'm pretty sure I did," she said blandly as she studied him warily. "What can I do for you, Mr. Owens?" "Aren't you going to invite me in," the tall man asked her, and she caught on to his game at once.

He wasn't the first man to try using his size to impress, or intimidate.

"This is my day off, sir," she drawled, standing there in the door. "And I have plans. So unless you have something to say…..?"

"All right. Right to the heart of the matter," he smiled, and only then did she see beneath his veneer. He was nervous, and sweating a bit from having come up those aforementioned stairs. Not as intimidating as he had likely hoped, and she couldn't help but smile, and nod.

"Please do," she told him, still standing in the door.

"Right. Sandra said you were a no-nonsense type of girl."

Her green eyes narrowed on him as she added, "Woman, Mr. Owens. I'm not a little girl. I'm a grown woman."

"Which any blind man could see, Betty," he tried being smooth now.

"The heart of the matter," she reminded him, easing the door closed a few inches as if she were about to shut it.

"All right, Betty," he nodded. "I'd like you to join my research lab team.

"Now, naturally, you can't actually work in the lab since you aren't certified, or accredited, but you are the best mathematician, and transcriptionist I've ever seen. I would like you to…."

"Mr. Owens, I only took that job as a part time means to pay for my night classes. Once I have my degree, I'm going to apply to the bureau, and perhaps continue on a master's as well.

"Either way, in a few weeks, maybe a month or so, I'll be moving to the capitol to pursue my plans."

James frowned. "Leaving? But you'd be wasting a real talent. A wonderful intellect. Betty, you are one of the sharpest minds I've seen come along in years. You'd be a valuable addition to our research….."

"As a transcriptionist," she drawled, starting to push the door closed again.

"Wait, please," she asked. "Betty. That's just a start. I could pull some strings, and I'm sure that in very little time I would be able to get you the certification needed to let you work in the lab itself.

"I know Dr. Buckhannon would love to have you on his team. He was genuinely impressed with how easily you finished those equations. Especially since you also did them accurately, and without any aid."

"Harold Buckhannon," she frowned.

"Do you know him," he asked, surprised she recognized the name.

"I've….heard of him," she told him in a neutral tone, not telling him he was the man that had seen to it her 'father' had been laughed out of the state university's research department over eighteen years ago. Just five years before he had created them.

"Well, he would love to have you working with him."

"Yeah, right," she thought to herself as she gripped the door harder than ever, resisting the urge to slam it. Harry, as her father had called him, was quick to take other peoples' work as his own, and claim credit for it. He had tried stealing some of her father's work, but the professor was smarter than Harold. He had everything locked in his head, and when Harry couldn't replicate the full experiment he had stolen, the truth came out.

By then, Professor Utonium didn't care. He left the university, and the research he loved to become a freelance research scientist. A move that led toward the creation of her, and her siblings. Still, the professor had never forgiven Harry for his underhanded dealings. "_A blight on the scientific community_," was the least her father had called him.

"I don't think it would work out," she told him.

"Why not," James asked a little anxiously.

"I've heard about him from some of the older professors at the university," she told him bluntly. "Did he ever win that lawsuit against him regarding the slander charges he alleged from the members of Gen-Tech who accused him of theft, and fraud?" "Ah, well, actually that case was settled out of court."

"Right. Anyway, you do realize he doesn't exactly have a sterling track record," she told him. "And I just wouldn't feel right putting my future in his hands.

"Good day, Mr. Owens," she said, and shut the door.

She expected him to shout. To bang on the door. She was surprised when he apparently just went away.

She went to get dressed, pulling on jeans, and a baggy tee she favored that was bright green, and had a pair of eyes on the back. "_I'm watching you_," the shirt read across the front. She had thought it was funny when she first saw it, and had bought it despite the ridiculous price on a simple tee-shirt.

Of course, for a woman on a tight budget, everything seemed priced ridiculously. Deciding to make this just a lazy day, she left her apartment, and walked uptown, indulging in some window shopping as she just let her feet, and her mind wonder. It was a pleasure she had not known in a long time, and she really enjoyed it.

The sun was close to setting by the time she headed home. Along the way, she paused at a public phone, called in a pizza order to be delivered, and then continued to her own apartment to wait for the pizza on the front steps. She already knew the delivery guys didn't like walking up nine flights to deliver a single pizza.

He showed up right on time, and she paid for the deep dish with extra pepperoni, and then she headed up to her apartment.

She was about to walk into the tiny corner that served as a kitchen/dining room when she realized there was a bright green box with a white ribbon and bow wrapped around it setting on the table. Frowning, she walked over to the box, and carefully studied it after putting down her pizza, and the few bags she had splurged on during her day off.

She saw no card, and didn't notice anything suspicious, but the box's very presence was suspicious.

"Really, Buttercup," a bright, bubbly giggle sounded from behind her. "You're just as paranoid as ever. You really haven't changed much at all, have you?" She spun around, and stared at the voluptuous blonde before her that was leaning against the wall of her bedroom door.

"Hi, sis," the blue-eyed blonde still wearing pigtails grinned, wiggling her fingers on her right hand as she straightened up to approach her. "You're a hard one to track down, do you know that?" "Then how did you find me," she asked Bubbles suspiciously.

"Hmmmm, let's see," the young blonde dressed in a short, blue skirt, with a shorter halter that had a heart cut into the bodice to flagrantly expose her ample cleavage smiled. "I turned on the news this morning, and heard all about the flying girl over the university.

"I'll admit, it was a little tougher narrowing the field, but while I was flying over the city, I just happened to spot a certain girl in green who looked a little too careless about her safety as she strolled through the streets."

"I'm not careless," Betty/Buttercup growled back as she opened a cabinet to take down a cup to fill it with her favorite soft drink. "Want some," she asked irritably as she opened the pizza setting on the tiny counter that served as cabinet, and table both in her little kitchenette.

"Sure," Bubbles smiled. "I like pizza," she reminded her sister.

"Sooooo, what is in the box," Betty asked as they sat on the only two stools before the counter/table and ate in silence for a few moments.

"You'll have to open it, and see," Bubbles winked at her, one dainty foot swinging to show the pristine white lacy crew sock easily seen since her three-inch heels were open-toed.

"It'll keep," she grumbled back, reaching for another slice of pizza. So much for having some left for breakfast. She had forgotten how much Bubbles could put away. Of course, she hadn't seen her sister in almost six years now.

Not since that dreadful eighteenth birthday, really their twelfth since they had been created at about six by their father. But the records said eighteen, so at the time, they all argued over what they would do as adults.

Blossom, always the leader, always pigheaded, and overbearing, was so sure they should continue to fight crime in their own unique way. She was so sure Buttercup….That _Betty_, would never be able to do anything on her own. Not without losing her temper, and really screwing up.

Okay, so she had a few bad episodes over the years. Pardon the rest of the world, and her, for being human. Pretty much.

Blossom wouldn't even listen to her. She never had.

She didn't even know if she had heard the last thing she had ever said to that maddening redheaded sister. "_Goodbye forever_," she had spat as she walked out the door. Walked, just to make a point.

"So," Betty finally said when the pizza and soft drink was gone. "How have you been?" "Oh, peachy," Bubbles smiled a genuine smile. "I work at the animal shelter, and help take care of the strays when I'm not at the zoo. I've got a honorary doctorate in veterinarian medicine, and….."

"Wait. An honorary doctorate?" "Well, it turned out there really wasn't much they could teach me that I didn't already know. When I started working part time just to help out at the zoo, and animal shelter, I also found out I had a lot of stuff up here already about animals, and how to take care of them.

"It turned out I could do more than just talk to them," she giggled characteristically. "I could heal them, too."

"That's….pretty cool," Betty allowed. "I guess Blossom still works for the mayor?" "If you mean the _new_ city mayor, no. She went freelance, and works for Ms. Bellum now. They have a kind of private eye thing going. It's pretty tame stuff compared to what we once did, though. Not that it matters. The new mayor kind of frowns on super beings fighting in his town. He's practically made being super illegal in Townsville.

"Nowadays, only the Super Guys do all the big hero stuff, even around Townsville."

"I hadn't noticed," Betty drawled.

"So, Buttercup, why did you start calling yourself Betty," Bubbles suddenly asked, looking solemn in the same instant. She always was mercurial in her moods. Apparently that had not changed, either.

"I wanted a fresh start," she told her honestly, wondering if maybe Bubbles would understand, and would maybe help Blossom understand. If they still talked.

As she recalled, the pair had lit into each other even as she walked away. She knew, because she had heard the furniture crashing as she left her childhood home behind that last time.

"I also didn't want to make it easy for anyone that knew me to find me. I mean, could you see me trying to do my job, or take classes, and suddenly have Mojo crashing through the walls with some new death machine he wanted to try out?" "Mojo is dead," Bubbles said quietly.

"Dead," Betty frowned. "I heard he stopped showing up every other week, yeah, but….dead? What happened?" "No one knows for certain, but Blossom said the rumors around Townsville Prison claimed _Him_ was involved."

Betty couldn't help but shudder. Him had been one of their most mysterious, and unusual foes of all time. They never did learn much about Him, except that s/he was evil incarnate, and really wanted to bring down the girls because they were such paragons of virtue in the eyes of the world.

"Yeah, well, that's something else I don't miss. Being the target of every chest-beating, world-conquering wannabe that had an ego problem when it came to a girl being bigger and badder than they were."

"I can respect that," Bubbles said quietly. "But….why didn't you ever come back," she asked. "You never wrote. Never called. Nothing," she said in such a small voice that Betty knew she had been missed by at least one of her sisters.

"I….I guess I had to prove I could make it on my own first," she said. "I wanted to prove….to show Blossom that she was wrong about me."

"Well, when do you think that would be? Because I'd really like to celebrate our birthday together this year," she said, referring to a day Betty knew well enough was only four days away.

"I don't know.

"I'm waiting to hear how my last tests went, and if I passed them all, I'll have my degree in criminology. A bachelor's degree, at least. But I'll have earned it.

"Just like I earned the money for this apartment, and everything else I own."

"Uhm, Buttercup, surely you could find another job? I mean, you must not be making that much…."

"I've spent most on rent, books, and my classes," she admitted. "The home thing didn't mean that much to me," she shrugged.

"Or the wardrobe, either, I'm guessing," Bubbles suddenly chortled, smiling again.

"Hey, I've got a very nice wardrobe."

"I saw it. All green skirts and dresses, with plain blouses, and drab shoes. You really need to learn to accessorize," Bubbles told her, flicking a silver earring that was shaped like a dolphin dangling from her left ear. The right, naturally, was a bird.

"Well, I'm a secretary, too. Not just a college girl," she told her. "I have an image to uphold."

"What happened to the girl that used to say, "Screw image, let's have fun?" I miss her," Bubbles told her in a mischievous tone.

Betty started to say something as she stood up to clear away their trash from the impromptu meal, and then shook her head. "Sometimes, I do, too, Bubbles.

"Bubbles. Do you still go by that, then?" "It is my name," the blonde told her, kind of hurt. "Remember the day we were born. Professor Utonium named all of us. Blossom for her politeness, and bold manners. Me for my joyful, bubbly personality. You for…."

"'Cuz Buttercup started with a 'B,'" she finished sourly. "Yeah, yeah, I remember."

"I still miss him," Bubbles sighed.

"So do I," Betty said again, and frowned uneasily when Bubbles suddenly leapt up and hugged her.

"You have to come home. Please. At least for the birthday party. Just think what a surprise it would be for Blossom."

"You're both still living…..there?" "Yeah. But she's hardly ever home. Like I said, she's working with Ms. Bellum, and they're always out on some case, or something else.

"It gets a little lonely," Bubbles admitted. "If it weren't for the zoo, and the shelter, I don't know what I'd do."

"I'll try to show up," she said, scowling. "But I'm not making no promises," she added as Bubbles looked so excited she seemed ready to go ballistic. "I said try. As in maybe."

"That's something, at least. And I won't tell Blossom, or Ms. Bellum. I'll keep it a surprise.

"Oh, and there's one more thing I would really love before I go," she said.

"What," she sighed.

"Would you fly with me again?" Betty frowned.

"Pleeeease. Just once. A little hop around town just like old times."

"I don't exactly have anything……"

"Open the box," Bubbles exclaimed.

Betty groaned as she eyed the box again.

"Why do I know I'm going to regret this," she asked no one in particular as she glanced at the box in the corner of the living room.

Bubbles only smiled.

_**PPG**_

Twenty minutes later the two siblings soared high over the city as Bubbles hooted and howled her delight.

Betty groaned, but couldn't keep the smile from her own lips as she remembered the games they used to play when not pounding bad guys. She had felt a little silly when she first pulled on the outfit Bubbles had brought her that was somewhat like her own.

That is, a bright green skirt and halter, with the same cleavage-exposing design, and for footwear she had white stockings that rose just below her knee, but with low-cut hiking boots and a dark green armband on her left bicep to give her a distinctive appearance. Bubbles, she realized, did still know her.

"Isn't this great," Bubbles shrilled as she flew circles around her, spinning gleefully around as they rose higher into the sky, and then dove down in a mad game similar to the tag they had once played as children.

"It brings back some memories," Betty allowed, remembering how much she liked the rush of wind across her face.

"Buttercup, do you…ever miss those days. You know? When we were all together?" They hovered over the city, near her apartment, and she smiled wanly into her sister's face. "Yeah," she finally admitted. "I….I still love you guys, but…..Blossom," she said helplessly, and just growled.

"Yeah, I know," Bubbles giggled. "She can really be a control freak."

Betty laughed. "That's putting it mildly."

"But you could really push her buttons, too. Admit it, Buttercup."

"Betty," she corrected.

"Buttercup," Bubbles said stubbornly.

"You always had a temper. Sometimes, I think you two _liked_ fighting. Maybe that's why…."

"Why, what," she asked.

"Nothing," she said less than innocently. "I really hope you'll be there Wednesday," she added. "Now, I'd better go. I have to check on a sick zebra."

"It was good seeing you, sis," Betty waved her off, watching as Bubbles flew away so fast she seemed to almost vanish. She knew better, of course. Of them all, she had always suspected Bubbles was the fastest. Not that she'd ever admit it. Not out loud.

She hovered in the air for a few minutes, enjoying the breeze, and the relative silence, and then decided she'd take a walk to calm her nerves that still jangled after her wild flight with her sister. She touched the ground in an alley just four miles from her apartment, not wanting to be seen, and then walked out to the street to start her walk.

"Hello, gorgeous," a man called from a convertible as he slowed his car as she walked down the block. "Looking for company?" "Not yours, creep," she scowled at the balding, fat man with too much jewelry, and not enough hair.

"Hey, girlie," a stocky, older woman with thin, graying hair spat as she came out of a doorway. "You working my block?" "Working your…..? Heck, no," she scowled. "I'm just trying to take a walk here," she said, noticing two big, black toughs, and three girls that were obviously whores. Then she realized how she was dressed, and how it might look to an average person.

"Bubbles," she groaned. "I should have known better."

"Walking, is it," the older woman said as she nodded at the two toughs. "Well, you got all the right curves in the right place, girlie. Maybe I'll let you join my stable if you prove you can make me some money."

"Forget it, lady. I have a job, thank you."

"Hey, bitch," one of the thugs spat, dropping a ham-like hand on her shoulder to stop her from walking away. "No one tells Granny no."

"Hands off, jerk," Betty scowled, and shoved the thug. To her credit, she only pushed him lightly, so he only flew about four feet before he hit the brick wall behind him. "And I just said no, so deal with it."

The other man swore, and pulled a knife. "No one…."

"Screw this," she said, her eyes flashing just before the knife somehow melted right out of the thug's hand.

He yelped, dropping the molten blade even as the old woman leapt forward with surprising agility, and planted a hard fist on Betty's jaw. To her surprise, Betty flew back several feet to hit the pavement before she could catch herself.

"No one touches my boys, slut," the old woman spat as she stalked toward her with curled fists.

Betty leapt up, her own fists curling, then realized what was happening.

"Oh, _heck_. I do not need this grief again," she said, and simply looked up.

Looked up, and went up. Straight up.

Granny, and her recovering thugs stared up in amazement as the girl vanished into the night sky. The old woman stared at the empty sky with scheming eyes, and said, "I want her," in a tone that her two sons knew quite well.

Granny, seeing dollar signs before her as she noted the melted knife on the pavement now cooling into useless slag, then looked back up at the sky. "Yessir, I want that little bitch.

"Find her," she told her sons, and whores. It was an order that could not be denied, or ignored. Granny was a force to be reckoned with on the streets, and when she gave an order, she was obeyed.

_**PPG**_

"Betty," Sandra called her name even as she looked up from the last letter she had just finished typing, and carefully placing in the out basket. There was also a saved copy on the computer's hard drive, and one on the floppy disk for backup. It seemed the company loved paperwork, if nothing else.

"Ms. Martinez," she nodded as she cleared the word processor's screen, and looked up. "What can I do for you?"

"I do like the way you're always so polite," the woman smiled. "Anyway, Mr. Owens wants to see you in his office now that you're free."

"About that," she began. "I need to tell you….."

"You can tell me whatever you have to say when you get back. You're expected upstairs now."

"Yes, ma'am," she sighed, and rose to head for the elevator as Sandra lifted her last letter from her out basket.

She smoothed her skirt as the car rose up to the twenty-fifth floor. Her white blouse that contrasted with her green skirt, and natural coloring were still relatively fresh. She had recently trimmed her dark hair so it hung loose around her head in a casual bob. Easily maintained, and yet functional, it was very much like the look she had carried through childhood. She tried not to think about that. Just as she didn't think about that outfit she now realized really was ridiculous that she had packed away, and would absolutely _not_ be wearing again.

She stepped off the elevator a moment later, walked up to the aide who was eyeing her as she approached, giving her that look that always seemed to indicate she had somehow been found lacking, but today it barely registered.

She had a good idea she knew what James Owens wanted, and she was afraid she was going to lose this job even sooner than she had planned. All the same, she was simply not going to be working in the lab. Not even in an unofficial capacity. Certainly not for Harry Buckhannon.

She announced herself, was told curtly to go right in, as before, and headed for the doors.

She knocked, stepped inside, and looked over at the desk where James Owens sat.

Then her eyes locked on the gaunt, white-haired man who stood beside him.

"You," Harold Buckhannon spoke first as he locked eyes with her.

"Yep," she drawled insolently, eyeing the man she had only met once, and disliked instantly. "Me. And you're you.

"Now that we've established that, what's next," she asked, looking to Mr. Owens who seem completely nonplussed.

"Uh, Betty, I was just telling Dr. Buckhannon how I feel that we could….." "I cannot have her loose in my lab, James. I'm sorry, but I can't. That….abomination is a creation of Utonium's that almost killed me once."

"Because you tried to killed him first," she shot back. "After you cost him everything."

"You….do know each other."

"Surely you know," Harold spat. "That is one of those annoying do-gooding little girl heroes they used to call the Powderpuffs."

"Powerpuffs, you old phony," Betty shot back. "If you're going to insult me, at least get it right."

"I don't care what they call you, Buttercup," the old man spat. "You're an abomination that Utonium should have destroyed the moment he realized what you were."

"Am I missing something here," James frowned.

"Just my resignation, Mr. Owens," Betty said, and turned on her heel, and headed for the door.

"Betty, wait," James jumped up.

She went out the door without looking back.

Ten minutes later she was clearing out the few things of her own from her desk after she told Sandra she was leaving. She gave her old address in Townsville for her forwarding address, but didn't actually plan on going there. Not just yet, anyway. She still had things to do.

"But….why," Sandra was asking as she packed up the small box with the few tokens, and articles she treasured.

"It turns out Dr. Buckhannon knows about my past, and I can't work with him. I doubt he would leave me alone, either. So, I have to leave."

"But, Betty," the woman shook her head. "No matter what you did, you've proven you're a good worker, and a valuable employee….."

She looked back at the older woman who was friendly in her own way, and smiled. "I'm glad to have known you, Ms. Martinez.

"As to what I did? I kept Harry Buckhannon from killing my father. He's a liar, and a cheat, you know. He's never invented, or discovered anything he didn't steal first."

Then she stepped onto the elevator, and knew her parting words would spread fast knowing the power of gossip among the secretarial pool. Let the old jerk deal with that for a while. Abomination Like he was one to talk. He had been the one that gave Professor Dick the means to create the Xtreme Powerpuff Girlz he had created that time. Just one more attempt to stick it to his longtime rival, and superior scientist.

She sighed as she stepped off the elevator, and headed out through security for the last time. A half hour later she was packing her few belongings in her apartment as she knew without her job she wasn't going to be able to keep it.

Fortunately, she had some good news. That very day, the mail had contained both her grades, and her degree, having been mailed early it seemed. Apparently she had shaken up the old letch enough that he made doubly sure she was given her due as fast as possible. Fine by her, she thought, easily balancing the two, large boxes, and a duffel bag that contained her worldly possessions in her arms as she stepped out of the apartment for the last time.

She considered what to do, then decided to heck with everything, and launched herself into the sky with her burdens, turning due west toward Townsville. Maybe it was time she did try to mend a few bridges. She had done what she set out to do. Blossom would have to see she was more than just a tomboy with a bad temper now.

She was a college graduate.

_**PPG**_

Douglas Stamper, Granny's firstborn illegitimate son walked into the apartment of the weird flying girl they had finally tracked down. Only from the looks of it, they had found it too late. The old lady that rented the dump claimed she took off four days ago. No one knew where. She didn't leave a forwarding address.

A few drunks claimed they saw her fly west. He didn't doubt them. But west was a lot of territory. Granny was going to be pissed. He had to find out more. He had to figure out where she was going, and who they had to squeeze to figure out how to handle her.

He'd find out. Sooner or later, he would know all he needed to know, he decided as he left the old firetrap he couldn't believe anyone would rent. Even if they were desperate. He was good at finding things out. That was why he was Granny's favorite son.

_**PPG**_

"I've got a special surprise for you," Bubbles told Blossom in a singsong voice as Ms. Bellum set the birthday cake on the table before them with three stripes of color marking it's length.

"What is it this year," Blossom asked with a rueful glance at her business partner. "Kittens?"

"No, silly. But I did find a stray.

"Tah-dah," she said, pulling open a door, and revealing Buttercup standing behind it in a modest, green dress she wore with black flats, and white hose. Her best dress, actually, and she wore it for that very reason.

"Hi, guys," Betty/Buttercup smiled a bit stiffly as she came out of the pantry where Bubbles had insisted she hide.

She had been hiding for the past few days, since Bubbles was overjoyed to have her back for the time being, at least, and yet still wanted to keep her presence a surprise until their birthday. Their official twenty-fifth birthday.

"Buttercup," Blossom gaped at her as Ms. Bellum smiled fondly at Bubbles.

"Now I know why you've been giggling more than usual all week," the older redhead remarked.

"I wanted to surprise everyone."

"You did," Blossom, and the redhead said as one.

"So…..Happy Birthday to us," Betty asked, holding a thin package in her hand in bright wrapping paper.

"Yeah," Blossom, her pink eyes suspiciously bright smiled. "What is that," she asked, nodding at the gift in her hand.

"Ah, it's….kind of a present for….all of us. In a way. Mostly, it's mine, though."

"Typical," Blossom stiffened.

Bubble's smile faded as she moaned, sensing trouble already, but Betty stepped forward, and handed it to Blossom. "I'd like you to open it though.

"It's….well, it's complicated. Maybe you'll figure out what I'm trying to say when you see it."

"Okaaaay," Blossom murmured, and tore the paper open.

"Who the heck is Betty Flowers," she frowned a moment later as she looked at the framed degree in criminology.

"Me," Betty told her. "I had my name changed, and made official when I moved. I couldn't too well get a job, or go to college calling myself Buttercup."

"Why not? It's your name," Blossom said quietly as she handed the degree over to her sister as she stared at her from her chair from which she had yet to rise.

"Sit down, Betty," Sara Bellum told her, gesturing to the chair. "We're all very proud of you. I'm sure the professor would be proud, too."

"So, you found her," Blossom asked Bubbles.

"Yep," her sibling grinned brightly again, her blue eyes bright with happiness.

Blossom sighed, and ran a hand through her red mane that fell long around her shoulders. As in her youth, she still wore a red ribbon in it to hold it back. She was no child, though. Like her and Bubbles, she had grown up all woman, and no jeans, and sweatshirt, which she currently wore, was going to hide that fact.

"I guess I know what kept you away from us all this time," Blossom finally said as she stared at the red, blue, and green cake before her. She looked up at Betty, and asked, "How did you decide on Betty?"

"Well……It starts with a _B_," she smiled faintly.

Blossom smiled weakly, giving a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, it does.

"And….Flowers?"

"That was….for you guys," she blushed as she admitted that fact even to herself only at that exact moment.

"Gee, Buttercup, that kind of makes your name even more special than ours," Bubbles commented artlessly. "It's like all three of us together in one name, sorta."

"Sorta," Betty agreed.

"So, master criminologist," Blossom suddenly smiled. "What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know. I was thinking of a master's degree. But….well, I think I'd like to try just working for a while without worrying about classes, or tests. Maybe get some practical experience on a police force, or maybe try the marshals. Something like that."

"We could always use you," Sara told her as she carefully cut the cake so each girl got a piece with a sliver of every color crossing it. "Our firm is really taking off lately. We have some serious cases, and it wouldn't hurt to have another investigator to help out."

"I don't know," she sighed. "I'll be honest. I didn't plan on coming home so soon, but…..

"I ran into Harry," she told the girls as she eyed the cake set before her. "He still has a mad-on for us."

"He's a jerk. Always was. Likely always will be," Blossom snorted.

"Yeah, well, he's a jerk that could make a lot of trouble for us. I think he's working on something to do with the quantum theory. If the fragments of the calculations I saw were any indication," she told him. "I think he's trying to create a viable teleportation process, or some similar device.

"That could cause a lot of grief if he gets far enough along to make something work instead of just blowing up half the county. You know how he is with new toys."

"Yeah," Bubbles said gravely. "He can be a real party-pooper."

"Speaking of which, let's can the shop talk, and just celebrate family being together," Sara suggested as she poured four glasses of soda for them before setting down to toast them.

"Happy birthday, girls," she toasted them as the three of them smiled, and shared a rare moment.

"Happy birthday," Betty murmured, looking at her sisters in turn.

"Happy birthday," Bubble cheered, spilling her drink as she raised her cup a little too enthusiastically.

They all sighed. Some things certainly did not change.

"Welcome home, _Betty_," Blossom told her quietly later.

"Thanks, Blossom," she smiled, and returned the unexpected hug. "It's good to be home."

"And I've missed you, too," she added, knowing Blossom sometimes took a little longer than even she did to admit to certain feelings.

"Knucklehead," Blossom scoffed, and punched her arm.

"Know-it-all," Betty countered, and punched back.

"Betty."

"Yeah?"

"I really am glad you're back," she told her as Bubbles and Sara did the dishes as they cleaned up the living room after their impromptu celebration.

This time the hug was not so quick, or hurried.

And both girls had tears in their eyes.

_**PPG**_

Harold swore as he looked at the equations before him.

So close. He was so close.

He had high hopes when that girl had actually corrected portions of his proviso that his idiot assistant had let slip away with the usual correspondence without even ensuring it was correct in the first place.

Then James had claimed he had a secretarial savant who could do advanced trigonomic calculations in her head. He had been skeptical at first, sure someone had a ringer in the company trying to spy out just what he was up to, and so he sent a few of the toughest equations, fragments, mind you, from his primary theorem for her to view.

To say he was stunned when they all came back whole, and accurately completed would have been a gross understatement. He was ready to hire her on the spot, certifications be damned. After all, it was his project, and his fame and glory, and wealth when the theory was proven, and applied, he could write his own ticket. Instead, James had come back to announce the girl wanted to be a cop. A lowly law enforcement officer. As if being a secretary weren't low enough for her.

He talked James into appealing to her again, and he had personally gone to her apartment which the man claimed was a real pesthole. Yet still the girl would not accept his offer, and barely heard him out once Harold's name came up.

Harold was worried then. Was she connected to someone that had been in his way before now? Did she have family connected to someone he had tapped in his never-ending rise to power, fame, and fortune? He decided to meet the girl face-to-face, and try to plead their cause, hoping she was just reacting to some of the negative press that was still circulating about him. Whatever it was, he was sure he could charm this mousy secretary that was a math-wizard into helping them. For the good of the company, and all mankind, of course.

Then _she_ came into the office.

She was older, sleeker, but no less familiar.

Buttercup.

That annoying, willful, temperamental fly-in-his-ointment.

The very worst of the three, unnatural brats Utonium had somehow brought to life with his bizarre experiments that surpassed anything he had been able to replicate in all this time no matter how hard he tried.

Utonium, and his power brats had ruined so many of his schemes, directly, or indirectly over the years that he hated them more than anyone else in the world. Especially _that_ one. And to find out that she, the overly-aggressive, vindictive bitch who always seemed to get in one last shot, was the one that possessed such knowledge was a galling blow.

Little wonder he exploded.

Later, when he was calm again, he knew he could have handled the situation better.

He should have been more conciliatory. He could have charmed her even then, but his own temper had exploded, and ruined his chances for a quick, and speedy resolution to the final formulae holding him up. He had trouble explaining to James about the girl's past until he was forced to pull up certain files on the net to prove she really was one of those three, vexing would-be heroines that once flew around doing 'good deeds,' and generally butting in when not wanted.

Not that he had told James of his particular slant. He just explained the girls were young, immature, and anything that looked suspicious to their childish eyes tended to get pounded without question. Like much of his former research into certain energy weapons, and animatronic androids, and a few genetic experiments that admittedly got a little out of control. He explained how the misunderstandings led to some bad blood, but that he had thought he had put it behind him until that dark-haired girl had walked into the office, and stared at him as if she were about to start ruining things for him all over again.

James Owens was the kind of man that felt he controlled his little part of the world. He accepted his story, and suggested he try to smooth things over with Betty, or Buttercup, or whatever the girl was calling herself now. Knowing he was right, he headed for her apartment only to find out she had already left. The girl had just vanished as if she had never been.

He returned to his lab, shaking violently with fury, rather than fear.

His one chance to finally succeed, and she had vanished.

He never once thought she would return to Townsville. After all, she wanted to be a cop. And even he knew the story of the mysterious disappearance of Buttercup almost six years ago, just shortly after their 'father's' death. Even he didn't know why she had left, but he had heard some nasty rumors after she vanished, apparently never to return.

It was almost ironic she had shown up here as a secretary looking to become a cop.

For an instant he had even feared she might have known about her last meeting with Utonium. The one that killed him.

But, no, she didn't mention him. Said nothing about her 'daddy.' So his secret was still safe.

For the truth was, his theory, his work, and all progress to date had come from Professor Utonium's own lab. He still remembered the day he had gone to see his longtime rival just about eight years ago. He had been struggling with a particularly tough problem, and thought he might enlist his aid for old time's sake.

To his astonishment, he saw his fledgling equation, (borrowed from a certain gifted intern), was part of Utonium's current work that was scribbled in detail across three large chalk boards as casually as another might scribble out an outline for a book report. To his chagrin, the man had even developed a prototype for what he called a null-field generator as he had christened it to harness the quantum field in an attempt to somehow overcome the negative effects of chaos in the real world, as he explained it.

With his work all but complete, and ready to patent, the professor had suggested he go find someone else to rob, as he was not getting anything from him this time.

Harold had to admit he had a bit of a temper himself at times. Hoping to come up with a profitable theorem or two to get him back into the scientific journals, and on the fast track to success once more, he saw his dreams crumbling, and he went berserk. In the ensuing struggle, the prototype went off, and the professor was literally vaporized. Nothing was left of him but a piece of charred lab coat, and one smoldering shoe.

Proof that the now ruined prototype had almost worked.

It was enough for Harold. He pulled out his digital camera, and snapped picture after picture of the complex equations. Only the last chalk board was almost cut in half by the discharge that had just missed turning him into human barbeque, too. He swore, but took what he could, and made a covert escape after wiping most of the remaining boards clean. No reason to leave anything valuable behind, after all.

Later, he watched the news with gleeful smugness as Utonium was declared dead in a mysterious lab explosion. He even made a bid at 'adopting' the orphaned brats, but Buttercup had been quite explicit in what she would do to him if he even tried. Not that it mattered. They three became wards of the entire town, and for the next eighteen months, until they became legal adults, they were allowed to live in the familiar home they had been raised in by their 'father.'

Shortly after their eighteenth birthday, Buttercup disappeared. The other two soon gave up their own heroics, especially after the new mayor began passing laws and restrictions against the random exercise of 'super powers' inside town limits. That didn't stop the villains, of course, but now the police and guard were expected to work more efficiently, and effectively, and to everyone's astonishment, they did. Only a few months after the once heralded trio had 'retired,' very few even missed them.

Still, as Harold now sat in his lab, surrounded by the incomplete equations that had been cut off by that stray explosion years ago, he had yet to be able to complete the work despite a parade of gifted aides and assistants. James Owens had been impressed by his initial work, and his theory, but now, he was getting impatient waiting for results. What was galling was that the answer likely lay in the mind of the one person he never would have guessed had any wits at all.

The redhead, maybe, but Buttercup? Who would have guessed she had that kind of a brain? Certainly not him.

If anything, he would have written her off as mere brawn.

A bully at heart just waiting for her next fight.

And he would have been wrong.

That galled him more than anything. That he had been wrong. And that for almost five years, the answer to his problem had been working in a secretarial pool in the same building. It was enough to make a man consider murder.

_**PPG**_

Betty/Buttercup was sitting in the middle of the professor's old lab, heedless of the dust and cobwebs as she looked around the place where they had been created. They had not been down here in years. It was still pretty much the way it had been left after the police had come in and dusted everything, and taken their pictures, before they finally called it an inevitable accident. After all, the entire town was used to explosions in the professor's lab.

This had just been the last one.

She sighed, and looked around, wishing there was a way to change everything. A time machine. Something. Because she could really use her father's gentle, patient wisdom just now. In the back of the lab, the hulking ruin of Dynamo still rested. She spared a faint smile for the ill-fated robot created to augment their powers that had ended up doing more harm than good. She smiled as she recalled the time the Mayor had gotten into the robot, and inadvertently unleashed his own hapless form of destruction upon the city.

Of course, that would never happen with Mayor Taylor. Tom Taylor, the law-and-order mayor was in charge now, and he had no use for heroes, or heroines. The new police chief he had hired had all but laughed her out of the precinct when she had tried to submit her application. Her years of study, and education meant nothing to him. She was still one of '_those_' girls.

She sighed, and looked around again when something caught her eye.

She frowned, then shouted as loud as she could. "Blossom!"

The foundations of the house shook as she summoned her sister, knowing Bubbles was at the zoo with a zebra that turned out to be pregnant, not sick. Blossom, however, was at home today, in between cases as Ms. Bellum was at the office dealing with the usual paperwork from their last assignment.

Buttercup, in her own jeans, and tee, was downstairs in an eye blink, standing at her side. "What is it," she asked anxiously. "Is something wrong?" Then she noticed where she was, and frowned. "And why are you in the professor's lab?"

"Look at that," she pointed. "Tell me what you see?" Blossom frowned. "Buttercup, is something wrong? What are you talking…..?" "What do you see," she stressed, standing up to glare at her impatiently.

"A….chalk board," she asked helplessly, uncertain as to her sister's problem.

Betty sighed. "Look closer."

"Okay, so…..I see some numbers and letters. But they were erased. So?" Green eyes flashed coldly as she walked over to the board, and began to replicate the equations. "Listen, Blossom, you're the one that always said to study a problem completely before we jumped at the symptom. Right?

"Well, fact one, when was the last time the professor _ever_ just wiped a board clean without washing it afterward? He always said the 'ghost' images distracted him. Remember?" "Maybe….he didn't have time, Buttercup," Blossom asked, having fallen into Bubble's habit of calling her by that name again.

Betty sighed. "There's something else.

"Fact two, remember what I told you about Harold Buckhannon?" "Yeah," the redhead nodded, well tanned, though many people tended to think she might be an albino when first meeting her due to her large, pink eyes. Not many outside Townsville guessed the truth since they had rarely been in the news in over a half dozen years.

"These," she said, tapping at three of the equations she had restored on two of the boards in short order. "These are the very problems that he sent down to have me work on.

"And this," she added, lifting the broken chalk board to copy what her sensitive eyes could make out. "This is the very theorem I first corrected on that prospectus when I thought it was just a mistake in transcription."

Blossom stared hard at the complex mathematical formulae appearing at the end of the chalk in Buttercup's hand.

"You….really understand all this?"

"Sure. It looks like Professor Utonium was trying to access the quantum field for some reason. From what I can tell….."

She froze, and stared at her sister. "Oh, no."

"What is it?"

"Here. If Harry tries doing anything with what he has, he really could blow up half the world," she told her. "Or worse, shrink it to the size of an atom."

"Holy cow," Blossom exclaimed, eyeing the formula before her, and starting to catch some of what her sister was seeing. "I think you're right."

"Well, of course I'm right. We have to stop Harry."

"Hold it," she said when Buttercup would have headed for the door.

"We can't just rush out and accuse him. You know how that would look?" Betty clenched both fists, and shook her head in disgust. "I know," she hissed. "But he's only going to deny anything we say anyway, so……"

"We do this right, Buttercup. The way _Betty_ would."

Betty stopped, looked at her, and nodded. "All right.

"The first thing we need to do is get proof of what he intends. Since you and Ms. Bellum seem to be settled into the P.I. thing, I'm leaving that to you."

"And what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to finish the equations on this formula. The professor was onto something, and no way am I going to let that loser patent it before us. We'll finish it up, and then I'll file it under the professor's name for a memorial."

"That's a good idea, Betty," Blossom smiled. "I'll head down to the office, and run this past Sara. She still has some political connections. She'll know how to best get a handle on Harry's status, and how to undermine it so we can get the proof we need.

"After all, we all know how he likes to crow, or complain. All we have to do is set him up, and he'll likely tell us everything we want to know."

"Yeah," Betty nodded as she studied the shattered chalk board. "I need another board," she said, and vanished for a moment only to reappear a scant second later with a new, larger chalkboard where she immediately set to etching out the calculations, and completing them without any discernible pause as she worked with a focus once reserved for her workouts.

Or so it seemed to Blossom.

Betty, meanwhile, had already seemed to have forgotten all else as she frowned over her work, and started to look at some of the previous work, going back to redo a few things as she moved back and fourth across the large boards where she began to methodically and doggedly reproduce the professor's earlier work. Halfway through the newly corrected equations that she noticed the problems the professor had solved were slightly askew to the true values, she began to frown as something began to occur to her. She looked over at the old workbench where a shattered, charred lump of metal lay. The prototype quantum generator the professor had apparently misfired, causing his death.

She looked back at the equations, then suddenly smiled.

"I know what happened," she said as she began to scribble out something that popped into her chemically superior mind as synapses began to fire almost as fast as she could fly, which was pretty fast. She actually had to slow the chalk, or melt it from friction as she quickly went through all the boards, redoing key, and critical computations until she stood back, and nodded soberly at the results.

Five minutes after she was finished with the last equations, she was standing over the fried prototype, and starting to rewire the surviving electrical harness inside the charred casing she had pulled apart to start rebuilding it.

She had a theory. And a plan.

Hopefully, both would fit together once she got everything together. In the meantime, she had to do her best to be ready to put Harry back in the gutter where he belonged, and protect her father's work. Because once she got this device finished, she'd have all the proof she needed that the work Harry was trying to pass off as his own, again, was really Professor Utonium's.

She was certain she had the calculations completed accurately now. Just as she was certain they were the correct ones this time. She just had to figure out the tangled mass of charred wiring, and make the stupid device work right this time, and she would have _everything_ she needed.

_To Be Continued……_


	2. Chapter 2

No, I don't own any rights to these three characters, or their supporting staff. I'm just writing a story based on their adventures in an alternate future.

_**The PowerPuff Girls--New Generation**_

_**By LJ58**_

**Part 2:**

"Wooooooo-hooooooooo," Blossom heard echo across the sky over her head as she and Sara left the office they maintained, heading toward Ms. Bellum's car.

Overhead, a streak of color told her exactly what was going on.

"Buttercup seems happy," the redheaded younger woman told Sara as she watched her sibling streak across the sky, and vanish over the horizon.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but a happy Buttercup isn't necessarily always a good thing," Sara stated solemnly as they climbed into the sporty, red coupe she favored.

"I can't say, Sara," Blossom sighed. "Of us all, I think she took the professor's death the hardest. You saw her last week. I don't think she's over it even now.

"And after I found her in his lab three days ago, reviewing his theorems. I used to think I was the only one that got any of the professor's brains, but…..she was doing equations that had my head spinning as easily as Bubbles speaks to animals."

"Maybe all that time on her own simply gave her a chance to find out she had other gifts beside her fists," Sara suggested as she started the car.

"Well, I wish we could figure out just what Buckhannon is up to now. He's obviously using parts of the professor's equations, but he has the earlier, uncorrected formulae that Buttercup surpassed days ago."

"Which means, if she is right, then Harold is going to create an even bigger explosion than the one that killed your father if he tries acting on the work he has to date," Sara nodded, rehashing the conversation they had attacked from various angles since they took on the admittedly personal case.

"Right. Only I can't seem to find a way to prove it.

"He's gotten good at passing himself off as a legitimate researcher, and that Mr. Owens is so dense I don't think he realizes his new researcher is probably about to level his entire facility at the very least."

"Maybe Buttercup found something that will help us," Sara remarked as they headed toward the remote suburbs where the house was still standing as pristine as it had been the day they had first realized they had been created by their father, and fell in love with their new home, as they had their new father.

The fact the rest of the area was falling apart didn't touch them. Their immediate neighborhood remained a quiet, friendly area with nice families. Even the thugs and pushers wouldn't risk the area where known super-powered heroines hung out. Former heroines, actually, but even Mayor Taylor's edicts couldn't stop them from defending their own home. A fact they had proven often enough to keep their neighborhood safe enough that children still played on the streets after school.

"So, I wonder what got her so hyped up. We've certainly not found anything to crow about," Blossom grimaced as they drove through town, often slowed all the more by traffic even as Blossom couldn't help but think she could have crossed the distance in less than a heartbeat if she just let herself….

She shook her head again. She had not used her powers like that in almost six years. To see Buttercup…..Betty, flying like that had made her a little homesick for those old days. But the old days were gone, and things were a lot more complicated.

Still, finally, they reached the house, and she turned after climbing out of the car, asking, "You going to come in," she asked with a smile.

"No," the older woman told her. "I've got a few more things to iron out that might help us yet. I'll catch up to you later."

"Oh, well, all right," Blossom sighed, and turned toward the house that almost seemed like a home again now that Betty, or whatever she called herself, was back again.

"Blossom," Bubbles pulled the door open as she reached for the knob, her key out.

"You're home early."

"You're never going to believe it," Bubbles screeched at her.

She had heard that from Bubbles so many times, about so many inane things, she barely paid her any attention.

Until she walked into the house past the excited blonde, and stared into the rugged, if somewhat pale features of a very familiar face.

"P-P-Professor," she gasped, standing and staring at him as if she doubted her own sanity.

"Hello, Blossom," the familiar smile stretched across that plain, but friendly face. A face framed by shaggy, graying hair. But it was him. It was her father.

"How? We thought you….?" "My null-field generator exploded when Harry attacked me," he told her as Bubbles shut the door behind her, and joined them, seeming to be vibrating with sheer delight, and exuberance.

"Harry…..attacked you?" "Yes," he nodded. "Somehow, the prototype I was still working on was hit, and activated. I got hit by a full charge, and….well, it shrank me so small I was literally shrunk down into another dimension. It took some doing, but I managed to survive using my wits, and…..

"And then one day I was suddenly standing back in my own lab, and Buttercup was holding my prototype she had repaired, and made even better than my original design. You can't imagine how proud I am you girls stuck together, and made a home for yourself," he said, hugging her as she simply went to him, and held out her arms.

"Didn't Betty tell you about what's been going on," she asked.

"Betty," he frowned.

"It's what Buttercup calls herself now. She only just came home, professor," she told him. "To be honest, we…..had a fight six years ago, and she…..left."

"Six years? She didn't mention that. Only that Harry was up to his old tricks, and trying to use my quantum theories for his own gain."

"We need to talk," she sighed as she stepped back to stare up at him again. "I'm just surprised she didn't stay around to tell you about how things have been herself."

"Well, I told her to fly to the capitol and file the patents for me in our joint names before Harry could try anything with his stolen notes," he told her honestly.

"I just got finished shaving, and cleaning up," he said, smoothing a lab coat over his thinner, but more muscular body that made him look much the same as he had all those years ago. "I just need a haircut, and I'll feel really human again," he smiled ruefully.

"Let me do that for you," she suggested, and led him to the kitchen.

"That'd be great," he nodded as Bubbles followed them, asking, "So what kind of animals do they have in that other dimension?" The professor sobered as he looked at her, and said, "Not animals like we have," he said. "Just….creatures, really. The kind that all want to eat you. I can't believe I was gone so long. It felt like an eternity, but six years….."

"Actually, it was closer to eight years for you, professor," Blossom told him.

"Eight years," he rasped as she led him to a seat, and went to find scissors to trim his hair, and fill him in on how their world had changed.

He sat quietly the entire time, astonished, saddened, but still grateful his girls had come back together in the end on their own. They belonged together after all. They always had. Each of them were smart, and powerful in their own right, but it was when they came together that they could do miracles. He had always known it. He also knew they just needed to realize that for themselves.

**PPG**

Betty wanted to laugh at the expression on the patent clerk's face when she flew in through the window, and set the small box on his desk. Even that expression didn't match the one the middle-aged man bore when she told him she was here on behalf of her father, Professor Utonium.

He had told her to go directly to Andrew Wilson, who usually handled his affairs when he once visited the patent office.

Wasting no time, she quickly laid out the discovery her father had made, and her role in it, offering him the folder with the complete process, and blueprints of the quantum generator she had revised as well.

"I'll need to see a working prototype," he said quietly as he absorbed her tale. "And….I'll need to speak to….him."

"Call him anytime you like. As to the prototype," she smiled, and pulled out the gun-like device from the box. "Allow me to demonstrate."

An instant later, after a shrill pop of sound and light, the large file cabinet across the room shrank down to the size of a toy more fit for a dollhouse than a professional office. She grinned as the man's eyes bulged, and she reset the device, and restored the cabinet.

"Of course, if you're not careful, like that hack Buckhannon, you could end up blowing something up, like half the world. If you don't just shrink something so small it drops into another dimension."

"I see. Well, ah, Ms. Flowers," he called her after a moment of studying her. "If you'll just sign these forms, I'll get these patents filed for you and your father right away," he told her.

"You want me to sign blank forms," Betty demanded as she scowled at the empty papers before her.

"No. I mean, well….it's the way Professor Utonium always did business. It's….I mean…..I would never cheat you. Or him.

"I just thought, you'd like to leave, and that you….."

"Fine," she smiled, signing the papers she had already been told would be offered since the professor had explained how he often did business with Andrew. "Just remember, I'm the one with the bad temper. You wouldn't like what I might do to you if you crossed us on this."

"I….I would never," he started to protest. He didn't have the chance to finish. She had vanished in a blur of speed right back out through his open window.

Andrew shook his head as he stared at the neat binder of equations and the blueprints resting atop it. He looked over at his filing cabinet, and swallowed hard. He knew all about the professor's kids, of course. The process he had used to create them was one of the most carefully guarded secrets in the patent office. That one had been buried deep by the government. He had little doubt this was one to be buried, too, judging by the girl's story.

Still, to see one of those girls close-up, and all grown up.

She was…..

"Wow," he murmured gruffly, grateful the desk had been between him and her. She didn't seem like the type to be flattered by his helpless reaction to her.

The fact is, she seemed more like the type to rip his lungs out.

He couldn't help that his hand shook a little as he reached for his phone to call the professor, and welcome him back. Because he didn't doubt the green-eyed woman's story one bit. The fact she had flown in through his window gave her a lot of credibility. Especially since his window was on the forty-third floor.

_**PPG**_

James was scowling at the reports he was trying to decipher the latest offering from the lab secretary. If anything, it was just a poor rehashing of things he had already seen before over the past few months. He had taken a big chance on Harold, and just when he thought things were going to pay off, the man was letting him down. Badly.

Worse, ever since Betty had left, most of the transcription sent up by her replacement was poorly done at best. Case in point, he thought as he studied the marred typing that looked as if the woman had tried to correct it by erasing the type, and then penning it back in by hand. A very sloppy hand. Didn't the woman know what a word processor was for? He'd have to talk about Sandra about getting rid of this one, too.

He was so focused on the paper in front of him he almost missed the tapping from behind him.

He turned around, expecting a window washer, or a stray pigeon, and gaped as he saw a familiar face staring back at him.

He thought she must be on a scaffold, but then realized there was no window washer due this week, and there was no scaffolding outside to support her. How….?

"May I come in," Betty asked blandly as he rose, opened the window, still gaping at her as he held that one sheet of paper in his hand.

"How…..?"

He looked down. Then up.

No wires. No platforms. Betty was actually standing on air. She was really flying. Just like those girls Harold had babbled about for hours after her departure last month.

"C-Come in, Betty," he rasped, stepping back from the window.

She floated in, and settled to the floor as James just gaped at her.

"So," he finally rasped as she held a small box close to one side. "I don't suppose you're returning to work," he asked.

"Actually, I'm here to do you a favor," she told him as she walked over and set the box on his desk.

"A….favor?" "Yes. First of all, Harold, as I said before, is an imposter. The equations he can't seem to solve? They aren't even his. He stole them from my father. And, yes, I have proof.

"In fact, I just filed a patent based on those calculations that allow limited access to the quantum field. For proof," she said, pulling out the small, silver device, and pointing it at his huge desk. "Exhibit A."

An instant later the huge, oak desk was simply gone.

"Holy……"

"This is what Harry can't figure out," she told him, reversing the process. "Because he lost most of the secondary work when he tried to kill Professor Utonium almost eight years ago.

"Instead, he accidentally shrank him into another dimension.

"You can tell that old faker that the professor is back, though. I found a way to reverse the process, and tracked him down so I could restore him. You can also tell him that we've already patented the quantum generator, and both processes that harnesses its energies. So, I suggest you stop him from any further attempts to work out the theorem before he does something terrible."

"This is…..is going to cost me millions," James moaned, wadding up the paper he held.

"Maybe not. My father's number. He's unorthodox, and has his own way of doing things, but he's a legitimate researcher, and scientist. He might be willing to license you to handle certain applications of his discoveries."

"If," James asked, staring at her as she put the device back into the box, and closed it up.

"Just do the right thing. Harry's a fake, a fraud, and a very dangerous man.

"Do yourself a favor, and get rid of him before he hurts a lot of innocent people. It's the only thing he's really good at."

"Would you…..come back?" "What," she frowned as she turned from the window she was approaching.

"I mean, if the professor, your father, ah, came to work for me. Would you come with him?" She smiled back at him. "Ask anyone. You never know what I'm liable to do," she laughed lightly, feeling more like her old self for the first time in years.

James stared after her as she simply leapt out the still open window, and flew off so fast it seemed she all but disappeared. "Wow," he murmured, then went to his desk, and stabbed the intercom. "Mrs. Jacobs? Get Harold Buckhannon up here right now.

"Then send security to close, and seal his lab. That's right. Immediately."

He leaned back, and sighed as he set back in his chair, still staring at the open window.

_What a woman._

Predictably, the scientist showed up in good time. He didn't realize it until now, but Harold spent more time kissing up, and charming people than he did working in his own lab. He also seemed to go through a lot of aides and assistants.

It didn't make the man look too good even without Betty's assertions concerning his character.

"Mr. Owens," the older man smiled as he entered the office with a confident air of familiarity. "You wanted to see me?"

"I've got bad news, Harry," he called the man, seeing only then the frayed cuffs of his worn shirt jutting out from the sleeves of his old-fashioned jacket. "Very bad news."

"What is it," he asked, trying to look and sound confident. "Surely the government isn't pulling back on our contracts….?" "Actually, we lost those contracts. The process you've been pursuing unsuccessfully has already been perfected, and patented by someone else."

"What," he choked, looking genuinely worried now. "Who? Was it one of those snot-nosed lab rats I sent packing? If they stole my research….."

"Actually, it was someone named…..Professor Utonium."

Harry's jaw dropped, and he looked truly horrified.

"That….That's impossible. He died years ago."

"Actually, he was shrunk down out of this dimension into another years ago. His daughter, the….abomination, you called her? She completed, and applied the theorem he was working on, and rebuilt his prototype field generator to restore him to this dimension.

"She was nice enough to warn me the work had already been patented, and that if we tried filing on any aspect of it, we could end up in court for years to come. If we didn't just go bankrupt thanks to your incompetency," he informed Harry.

"He's…..He's alive."

"Very much so."

"Mr. Owens," Harold rasped anxiously. "James….."

"You're finished, Harry. Through. I've already ordered your lab sealed, and I'll have some real experts brought in to clean up your mess.

"You're fired. Leave now. I do not wish to see you again."

"This….This is an outrage. I've spent years working on this project. So what if I….borrowed a few theorems from a dead man's lab? You're still stealing _my_ genius."

"Years? Then why did you claim the idea only came to you only a year ago?" "Listen, James. You can't trust that freak of nature. She's not even a real person. She's……"

"I've read the stories, and the trash rags, too. As far as I'm concerned, Betty Flowers is as real as anyone else on the planet. A lot nicer, too. Out, Harry. Or do I have to call security to escort you?" "But…..I….I can't just….."

"Mrs. Jacobs. Send security in. I've an unwelcome visitor that won't leave."

"You can't do this," the old man howled as he was being literally dragged out of the office.

"Show him the door, Ben," James told the beefy man leading two other guards. "Don't let him back in."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Owens," the head of security nodded as they left the office.

"This isn't over, James," he howled as he was dragged away. "I'll get those brats if it's the last thing I do. Them, and their stupid, half-witted creator."

Then the man was gone.

James looked back to the window. "I wouldn't count on it, Harry," he smirked.

_**PPG**_

"You could have tipped our hand," Sara told her as Betty filled them in on her visit to James Owen' office later that evening at home.

"You tipped your hand, don't you think," she couldn't help snipping at the woman who sat at the table with them as they celebrated the professor's return. Outside, media trucks still set, waiting for another candid shot of the professor who had been declared alive after being dead for almost eight years.

"Give me a break. I did learn a few things in all those criminology courses," Betty told Blossom and Sara as she pulled out a small recording device.

"Here's just a hint," she said, and clicked on the play button.

There was the sound of a door being closed, and then a familiar, snide tone asked, "Mr. Owens. You wished to see me?"

Bubbles laughed, and clapped.

"Way to go, sis."

"It gets better," he told them, handing the recording over to Sara. "Think you can use that?" "I'm sure I can come up with something," the still attractive redhead smiled at her as she took the device. "And I'm impressed. That's really using your head."

"It sure is," Blossom agreed. "So, that solves one worry. Right?" "Maybe," Betty told them. "Maybe not. Knowing Harry, he still has something somewhere he held back for his own security. That means there is still a risk he might try implementing the quantum theorem for his own purposes."

"That could be bad news," the professor agreed as he came into the room looking more himself in spite of the gray now streaking his once dark hair. "Harry has just enough intelligence to really botch things on a grand scale if he's not stopped."

"I agree," Blossom said as they looked up at her father.

"So, what do we do," Sara asked. "We could call the authorities, but right now, all we have on him is assault, and theft charges for sure. And considering the time frame, we might not even get those to stick in court. By the time anyone acts, he could use the data he already has to do something really….bad."

"So what do we do," Bubbles asked in genuine concern as the professor sat down with them at the table, and eyed the feast the girls had all pitched in to make.

"First, we enjoy this fine meal," Professor Utonium told them. "And give thanks that we're all here, and all safe."

"Amen," all three sisters agreed as one.

"Then, we figure out how to take down Harry once and for all and put that thieving fruitcake behind bars," the professor smiled at the four women with a gleam in his eye.

All three sisters cheered.

_**PPG**_

"Hello, little man," a voice cooed as Harry sat in a sagging, battered lounger in his dimly lit apartment.

Harry stared at the window covered by a worn shade, the motel sign blinking on and off as he stared at the garish neon that flickered badly as he stared at the notebook before him, trying to understand what he had missed. Why the half finished prototype on a nearby coffee table propped up by two yellowing phones books wouldn't work.

He spent most of the afternoon, and the subsequent night staring at the notebook as if the blank lines might somehow fill themselves in by some miracle as he finished off his last bottle of whiskey. He was still waiting for some burst of inspiration to rise and fill his mind, confident in his own genius, when the oily voice giggled in his ears.

"Who's there," he fumbled drunkenly, dropping his empty bottle, pen, and notebook as he staggered to his feet to stare around the room filled with shadows.

"Maybe no one," the voice sighed.

"Maybe you're _only_ friend," it added mournfully.

"Why should I believe you," he snarled, snatching up the empty bottle by its neck to hold before him defensively.

"How about a little show of…..shall we call it faith," the voice tittered, and his eyes were drawn to the notebook where the formula he had been tinkering with for ages suddenly began to rewrite and complete itself before his eyes as if an unseen hand were writing it.

He gaped, sobering instantly as cold certainty filled his mind with dread purpose as he saw the arcane symbols etched into paper out of thin air filled his mind at the same time, and he looked toward the useless prototype that looked more like a space heater than the device his mind was conjuring just then.

He began to echo that soft, mocking laughter as he walked toward the prototype, and began to take it apart.

"I'll show them," he growled with genuine malice. "This time, I'll show them all.

"And I'll put Utonium, and his freaks, in a box where they belong," he added as the voice chortled, "Yes. Yes, you will," before it faded away as if it had never been.

_To Be Continued……….. _


	3. Chapter 3

No, I don't own any rights to these three characters, or their supporting staff. I'm just writing a story based on their adventures in an alternate future.

_**The PowerPuff Girls--New Generation**_

_**By LJ58**_

**Part 3:**

"Buttercup," a burly man in a blue uniform drawled when the brunette opened the door early the next morning wearing black slacks, and a dark green blouse.

"Mitch?"

"It's officer Michelson now, Buttercup," the burly man drawled as he tapped his badge.

"Yeah? Well, it's Betty now. Betty Flowers."

The officer smirked, and tapped a thick paper he held. "Not what it says on the subpoena."

"What's that for," she demanded.

"An injunction you violated against the use of super powers in unlawful manner."

"I'm not stupid," she shot. "That law was only for people taking the law into their own hands by playing vigilante. The only thing I've done is fly in and out of town a few times. So go tell 'his honor' to go play golf, or something his deal is these days. I'm not doing anything _except_ flying around on my own business."

"That's not what the mayor thinks."

"I don't care what the mayor thinks," she hissed, feeling her temper start to flare.

Mitch smirked. "Are you saying you are going to blatantly defy a lawful order from Mayor Taylor."

"Why don't you try actually reading the law, jerk? It doesn't say anything about me not flying over town on my own business. Which is what I'm doing. Now, if you want to go to trial, I'm sure I can bring in a few people to testify to that business, but you'll look pretty stupid when I counter-sue you, the mayor, and his whole stinking administration for harassment."

She started to shut the door when Mitch shoved the paper out. "You still have to….."

He yelped as he barely pulled his hand back in time before the door closed.

"Get lost, you moron."

"Open this door, Buttercup. I'm the law now, and you have to listen to me," he shouted, pounding on the door.

"I'm a private citizen, and this is harassment. Maybe I should call 911," she cooed through the door, "And complain about rogue cops."

Mitch growled something, and stalked off. Betty smirked, and turned to see Professor Utonium standing behind her with a very parental expression on his face.

"Really, Buttercup. Was that very mature?"

"Ah, professor, that jerk has been trying to give me tickets all over town lately for everything I do. He even tried to give me a ticket for jaywalking."

"And did you?"

"No!"

"I'm a little concerned about this, though. Why would the mayor pass laws against your girls helping your community?"

"It's a new mayor," she shrugged. "He's a real jerk according to Blossom. He doesn't like vigilantes in 'his' town."

"Sounds like that police detective we met once," her father smiled ruefully. "That time we moved to…..?"

"Yeah. I remember. Only this guy is even worse."

"That's too bad. Still, you're right about one thing. This does sound like blatant harassment. It has to make me wonder why a man as busy as Townsville's mayor would take time out just to target you."

Betty suddenly frowned thoughtfully. "You know, Professor. That's a really good question."

"Butter…. Uh, Betty?"

"Don't worry, Professor. I'm just going to look into a few things. I'm not going to break any laws. Well, not _real_ ones," she smiled, as she stepped out of the house, and shot straight up into the air.

"That's my girl," he chuckled as he stood in the door, and saw a police cruiser parked near the curb. The officer inside glared his way, but drove off as if following Buttercup. The aged professor hummed thoughtfully as he turned back inside the house, and went to check on a few things himself.

_**PPG**_

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit," the older, stocky woman drawled as she eyed her granddaughter who had only recently gotten out of jail. Again. "Looking for a place to stay? A job? Stock tips? A handout," the older woman drawled knowingly.

The brunette sniffed, running one hand over her dark curls lovingly as she gave a faint sniff. "Really, Gran-Gran. I just came by to see you. The fact is, I have a room at a local halfway house outside Townsville. A good job at a local diner. And I happen to be making pretty good money there."

"You're not shaking down the suckers?"

"No," Emily sighed as the old woman poured a potent wine into her own tea cup.

"Why not? You lose your moxy?"

"I just got tired of ending up jail," the woman told her honestly. "Even without the Powerpuff girls to interfere, it seems like I was getting caught more and more often. So I just quit the con games, and went straight."

The older woman sneered at you. "That's not how I raised you, girl. Besides, I thought you said those Powerpuffs were the only ones that could match you in raw power. So how….."

"Gran-Gran, I just got tired. Okay?"

"Tired? Of wealth? Fame? Respect? What?"

The younger woman sighed, and shook her head. "I didn't really have any of that."

"Yes, you did. I saw you take it time and again."

"Exactly. From someone else. Then it always ended up taken from me. It got old, Gran-Gran. I decided I wanted more. I wanted real respectability. A family. A….."

"You have a family," the older woman hissed. "You don't even use your own name any longer," she spat in disgust. "Are you ashamed of it, Ima? Or should I call you…..Sedusa!?"

"No. I'm _Emily_ now. Emily Goode."

The older woman huffed. "You're as spineless as your cousin Digger."

"At least he's honest," Emily huffed.

"Why did you come here, girl. To who me what a waste you've made of your life? You're as bad as those Powerpukes you used to complain about. They got soft, and I heard they let the new mayor shut them down, too. One of them even…..ran…a-way...."

The old woman frowned.

"Gran-Gran," Emily asked. "You okay?"

"Could it be?"

"Gran-Gran," Emily asked, looking more than a little uneasy over her Gran-Gran's expression.

"It could have been. It must have been! That explains it," she laughed manically. "That flying bitch must have been the missing Powerpuff. Living right here on my streets all this time," she cackled.

"Gran….."

"Looks like you're still useful after all, Ima," Granny smiled coldly. "And now when Doug gets back, I'll know just where to tell him to go look for my new disciple."

"Disciple? Gran-Gran…..?"

"Didn't I tell you? I met a very interesting girl not long ago. She's strong. Willful. And flies. She even tried to fight me," Granny cackled, making Emily gape.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, nothing," Granny smirked. "Just a….business opportunity I've been considering. One that just might be within my grasp now. Finish your tea, Ima……"

"I prefer Emily now," she told her.

"Whatever. You always were a disappointment. Even your grandfather still remarks over how poorly you turned out."

"I thought my gramps was dead," she frowned.

"Well, yes," Granny drawled after a moment. A moment just long enough for Emily to see a cold smirk that made her wonder. "But I still talk to him," Granny told her.

"And you expect me to believe he answers you? That he can answer you?" "Of course he can," Granny drawled. "After all, being dead is like being good. Or bad. It's just a state of mind."

"You're getting senile, old woman," Emily huffed, putting her cup down, and rising to her feet. "I must have been crazy to come back here. I just thought….."

"Yes," Granny asked.

"Nothing. Like I said. I was crazy. Goodbye, Gran-Gran."

The old woman smirked, and watched her granddaughter leave, willfully not slamming the door behind her though the old woman knew she wanted to. Badly.

"The poor girl," she sighed. "All that time and effort gone to waste. I thought she was going to make such a fine witch, too."

"Don't fret, my dear," a voice cooed out of the shadows in the dimly lit apartment. "We have other friends. Other family that will not disappoint. Even now, I'm working on bringing someone new into the fold. Someone with lots and lots of potential."

She glanced toward the shadows, seeing a faint, dark red silhouette, and smirked. "Why didn't you just show yourself to her?"

"It's not time, my dear. When I'm ready. When she's ready. I'll reveal the truth of her heritage to poor, confused Sedusa. Then we will learn just how committed she is to following the….straight and narrow," the shadowy creature sniggered mockingly.

"Well, I hope she's just confused, or tired, or something. Because I didn't raise any grandchild of mine to pour coffee for peons."

The shadow only tittered. "Trust me, my dear. Trust me," the fading voice cooed just a bit madly.

The old woman stared into the shadows, knowing they were truly empty now, but the manic gleam did not leave her eyes. She still had a thought. And it would not leave her. Reaching for her phone, she called Douglas, and ever dutiful, her firstborn quickly answered his cell.

"Hello, Gran," he drawled.

"Where are you?"

"Halfway to Townsville," he replied proudly. "I heard about a flying girl seen over there, and I'm pretty sure….."

"Oh, it's her. Come back at once."

"But if it's her, Gran…..?"

"You need something special to handle this one, my dear boy. Come back, and Granny will see you have all you need to bring me my prize. In fact, there may be three of those girls waiting for us. Three, very potentially profitable fillies to join us," she cackled, thinking, '_Willingly, or not_.'

_**PPG**_

"I don't know what happened," Bubbles was frowning as she sat in uncharacteristic gloom at the table that evening. "One minute Stripey was doing so well, and the next….."

"Well, did you test him," Professor Utonium asked as they sat having a very somber meal that evening as he and the three girls were told the sad news that the prize Siberian tiger at the zoo had died unexpectedly, and without warning.

"We're doing blood tests, and things now. But….I didn't have any warning, Professor. And I always know when one of my animals is sick," she told him fretfully. "Always. It was like something just….."

"You know," Betty said. "I've got half the police force suddenly following me around lately, trying to ticket me for everything from public decency laws to walking on the grass."

"Were you," Blossom asked sourly, barely doing more than playing with her own food.

Betty, usually quick to snap at her sister, simply eyed her.

"What are they doing to you?"

"Huh? No, nothing….. I don't think"

"So, what happened to burst your bubble?"

"I got a call from the courthouse," Blossom finally sighed. "They claim my investigator's license wasn't properly filed last month for renewal, so they not only shut down our agency, they're trying to fine us for operating unlawfully in the city."

"It's the mayor," Betty told her. "Or someone using him. Someone is deliberately targeting all of us since we got back."

"That's crazy," Blossom told her dispiritedly, barely looking up to glance her way.

"Is it," Betty asked blandly. "Bubbles just happens to lose her zoo's best attraction, and one of her favorite animals in the very week Michelson is chasing me around with subpoenas, and you're being run out of business? I'm thinking Ockham's razor here, Blossom."

"She may have a point," Professor Utonium told her thoughtfully.

"Professor," Betty asked pointedly.

"This afternoon, a man from the capitol came to see me. They demand all the back taxes from the years I've been gone, or they'll take the house. They're also considering charging me with faking my death or some silly thing even though it's obvious I could hardly fake being shrunk into another dimension."

"Professor," Bubbles gasped in alarm. "Why didn't you tell us?" Then she frowned and said in grim realization, "So, someone might have killed Stripey trying to get to me?"

Her grief was suddenly overtaken by a cold glare Betty knew well as she saw her sister shift from mournful to determined.

"Girls," Betty only smiled thinly. "We have a mission."

"Huh?"

"And you're supposed to be the smart one," the brunette quipped as she grinned at her redheaded sister. "Think about it. A sudden, concerted effort against every one of us the very week we all find one another again?"

"Someone doesn't want us back together," Bubbles realized, wiping a threatened tear away.

"That's….. That's….." Blossom frowned thoughtfully. "I'm calling Sara."

"Good. Because I have an idea," Betty told her.

"Really," Bubbles and Blossom both exclaimed in genuine surprise.

"Hey! You two sound like I never had any ideas."

"Well, not good ones," Bubbles teased her.

"Nope. Not one," Blossom smiled faintly, remembering better days, and going along with Bubbles' teasing.

"Oh, ha, ha!"

"So, give," Blossom nodded, sounding more solemn now as she set her fork aside.

"Well, someone's obviously after us. That's what I think. So, let's give them more reason to do so, and sooner or later they're going to leave a trail we can follow back to the brains, and then bust them up but good!"

Both sisters stared at her as Betty almost smashed the corner of the table where she sat when banged a fist down.

"Uh. Legally speaking, of course," she blushed.

Blossom chuckled, and nodded. "That's actually a pretty good idea. I'll call Sara, and…."

"Don't call her. Fly over. Besides. If they're being this thorough going after us, they may have our phones tapped. I'll find out when I borrow the professor's sound-tracking modulator beam he invented a while back."

"I get it. Instead of laying low, we shove it in their faces," Bubbles grinned.

"Exactly. And, Professor. I suggest a press release. You should appeal to the media about your legal troubles, and let public opinion help, and see just how far our mystery man, or men, want to take this when they get a little exposure themselves."

"While making them have to come out and show themselves, or shut up and go away," Blossom realized. "Clever."

"Something you learned in college," he asked proudly.

"Uh, no. I got the idea watching Mel Gibson in Ransom last night on the late show," she blushed.

They all laughed now.

Then Bubbles snapped her fingers, and vanished in a blur of speed before returning with two matching outfits. She already wore the third, having changed into her 'costume' Betty had seen back at her place when Bubbles first tracked her down.

"If we're going public again, this ought to really drive them nuts if we're all dressed for 'action,'" Bubbles told them as she held out the outfits to her siblings.

"She's got a point," Blossom sighed, eyeing the pale pink outfit that was a far cry from the sturdy dresses they once wore.

"The last time I wore that, some freaky old lady tried to get me to work for her."

"Really?"

"She was some kind of madam," Betty growled at Blossom.

Blossom had to snigger as she took her own outfit, vanished for a moment, and returned in her new costume.

"Oh, fine. I guess she did make a good point. It would be like slapping their face with this."

"All right," Bubbles cheered as Betty reappeared an instant later, fully dressed, and blushing as the professor only grinned at the three of them. "Back together again!"

"I still have a few friends at the local station," he told them. "I'll call them tomorrow and give a statement."

Blossom sudden stood up again, and grinned a smile Bubbles had not seen in years. "Girls?"

"Let's go," Betty murmured, raising clenched fists.

Bubbles' '_Wooooo-hooooo_,' was still echoing behind her even as they vanished.

"Now, that's my girls," he murmured.

_**PPG**_

"I'm sorry, Granny," the big man reported mournfully. "But all it did was bring them together. They're flying everywhere together now, and flat out ignoring what's going on around them.

"Don't worry, dear boy," came the sly voice over the phone. "It's exactly what I expected, and exactly what I wanted. You just follow the plans I gave you, and pretty soon we'll have three pretty girls falling right into our hands for us to play with. Just like we planned."

"We," Douglas asked in confusion, thinking not his strong suit.

"I planned," the old woman sighed. "Just like I planned."

"Oh. Okay. Sure thing, Granny. I'll get started on the next phase of the plan at once."

"I'm counting on you, Dougie. Don't let Gran-Gran down."

"Never, Granny," the big man swore, and hung up.

The old woman smirked as she sniggered, then laughed. Soon everything would be the way it was supposed to be. Exactly the way she wanted it. Exactly the way Him wanted it.

_**PPG**_

"Okay," Betty said as they walked out of Sara's apartment. "Ms. Bellum will handle the paper trails while we stir things up. I still want to get the sound modulator, and check all our phones before we trust using them for anything serious."

"Good idea," Blossom said as they walked down the hall and stopped just inside the main lobby doors.

"Wow. For us," Bubbles gushed as she saw five police cars outside with nine officers standing outside waiting for them in full riot gear.

"I almost hate to say it," Blossom remarked dryly, "But it looks like your idea was right on the money, Buttercup."

"It's Be….. Oh, never mind," she laughed, and stepped toward the door. "C'mon, I have another idea," she said when she spotted a TV camera.

"What is it," Blossom asked.

"Just follow my lead," she glanced back at her sister with a wink. "Trust me. It'll be fun."

Blossom nodded at Bubbles, and they followed their sister outside.

Betty walked right the street as one of the police lifted a bullhorn. "All right, girls. Do not move. You are under arrest."

"On what charge," Betty demanded as she kept walking, right to the lead officer who looked a bit nervous.

"For the use of super powers in the city limits in violation of statute 393.671, paragraph 34b," the burly officer growled, still using the bullhorn though Betty had stopped over five feet away.

"That statute is a prohibition against vigilante activity. My sisters and I were just visiting friends. Are you telling me it's now illegal to visit friends?"

"You flew," the man sputtered.

"Of course. It's what we do. We fly. So do birds. You going to arrest them next?"

A few of the gathering witnesses actually sniggered as Blossom and Bubbles walked up behind her.

"What about the Super-Guys? They fly through all the time. You going to put out on warrants on them, too?"

The officer stammered helplessly as the camera crew just watched, and the crowd grew.

"You know, instead of using all your time and energy chasing us while we visit friends, or try to keep us from working _legitimate_ jobs," Betty drawled. "Why don't you go….? Oh, I don't know….? Stop some _real_ crimes?"

"Yeah," Bubbles added in a huff. "Someone murdered Stripey at the zoo, and might even be looking to do more harm, but no one would even _listen_ to me when I tried to report that," she exclaimed, well aware of the cameras herself. "What's up with that?"

"Not to mention shutting my detective agency down when me and my partner have never broken the rules in all the years we have been working," Blossom added pointedly. "It makes me wonder what the mayor is _really _up to these days."

"Yeah. Is he a mayor, or a dictator," Bubbles huffed.

"Why don't you guys go ask him," Betty drawled. "Meanwhile, while you might go for a walk? _We_….are going for a fly," she smirked, and simply took off into the darkening sky overhead.

Her sisters were right behind her.

_**KP**_

Harry cackled as he finished his creation, and then pondered its use.

The one thing he wanted most….. They wanted most. Was the destruction of those accursed abominations. That, and his rightful place in the world of science as the greatest genius since Einstein! This time, they would have to acknowledge him. They would have to elevate him over even that bumbling amateur Utonium.

He smiled, and began to envision far more than the weird voice might have considered. He began to add to the formula before him, scribbling manically as he created a means of harnessing the quantum device in a most unexpected way. He looked down at his designs when he finally found a design that appealed to him, and cackled madly as he saw his enemies falling before him.

The world falling before him!

Soon! Very soon, he would have his revenge, and then the world would be his. If he had to shrink every living soul on it to the size of ants to force them to worship him! He would be….a god!

He cackled madly as he began devising how to integrate his new technology with his imagined costume even as someone came to the door. "Shut up, you loon. Some of us are trying to sleep," someone shouted.

He knew who it was.

The ignorant lout from down the hall that liked to breathe whiskey breath in his face, and flex his bulging muscles in in his face as he threatened him with bodily injury. Harold lifted one of the modified quantum-channelers, and strapped it on his wrist with a cold smile.

He then walked over and opened the door, eyeing the human gorilla that glared down at him.

"Something wrong," he drawled, heedless of his own bleery-eyed appearance.

"Yeah, ya' fruit. You. What's with all the mad laughing, and crap? You sound like a matinee villain, or something."

Harry's thin lips curved into a cold smirk. "Oh, I'm much worse. But, I do apologize for disturbing you."

"Hmmph. Well, don't do it again."

"My word. Shake," he asked.

The gorilla looked down at his hand. Then his eyes moved to his wrist. Just before a burst of bright light blinded him.

Harry laughed again as he looked down at the two inch man staring up at him in horror as his tiny voice failed to even reach his ears. He could guess what he was saying, though. Not that he cared.

"Run along, little man," he growled. "Unless you want me to crush you," he sneered as he shut the door on him.

It briefly occurred to him that vermin, strays, and worse in the dump they inhabited would likely make short work of the man as he was now. Harry found it hard to care as he went back to the sketches of his new costume.

Those vile little girls were about to face their ultimate threat.

Right before he crushed them.

_Literally._

_To Be Continued……._


	4. Chapter 4

_No, I don't own any rights to these three characters, or their supporting staff. I'm just writing a story based on their adventures in an alternate future._

_**The PowerPuff Girls--New Generation**_

_**By LJ58**_

**Part 4:**

"Whoever is behind this is being very clever," Sara Bellum told the girls as they sat in the living room of their house a few days later.

They had made news as dissatisfied voters began to grumble over the mayor's increasingly erratic policies that were starting to affect not just former super heroines, but everyone else in Townsville, too, as the police were sent on bizarre scavenger hunts. He had police looking for peculiar electronic items, and once the girls even had to hustle when someone planted drugs in the house to allow for an arranged drug-bust.

A few super-speedy searches had found the drugs, and disposed of them, before the police with their 'legitimate' warrant could find them. Mitch, however, was probably going to have some explaining to do when he returned to police headquarters, and opened his locker.

"Well, I've spotted this guy hanging around the zoo lately," Bubbles said, and put a photo on the table in front of them on the stack of papers they were all reviewing.

"Hey, I know him," Betty told them. "That's one of those street thugs that was with the old lady that wanted to make me….. You know? Anyway, I remember he was with her."

"The old woman that planted you in a wall?"

"She shoved me. But I'll admit she pushed pretty hard for an old bat."

Sara thoughtfully rubbed her chin. "You know, you girls aren't the first super beings to ever show up. My own aunt used to tell me stories about super powered heroes that helped fight crime, win the wars, and all kinds of things before they just….."

"Got slapped with lawsuits," Bubbles asked wearily.

"No. They just faded away. Some of them obviously died, but some of them….. Well, no one really knows where they went."

"But why would a super-granny want to run prostitutes in her retirement," Blossom frowned.

"That's a very good question," Betty murmured. "But maybe we're asking the wrong question."

"What do you mean?"

"Okay, she was hung up on me before just wanting me to….work for her. Maybe there's more to the position than I realized? I mean, if she's coming all the way here, and is behind any of this, then what's her connection to the mayor?"

"But is she…..?'

"Connected," Sara asked. "It's plausible. How else could someone manipulate the law so easily into targeting you girls so quickly."

"And you and the professor," Blossom reminded her.

"In short, anyone that has anything to do with us," Blossom nodded thoughtfully. "So, we know our phones were tapped. We know the lawyers came from city hall. We know the police are acting like morons. What else? Anything….definite?"

"I've got something," Betty said, and dropped a file on the table. "I've been saving this since I wanted everyone here to see it."

"Is that…..?"

Betty nodded at Sara. "Mayor Tyler's personal file. According to every source I checked, this guy didn't existed until about six years ago. He literally showed up out of nowhere, got elected, and now he's running Townsville like his own personal empire. So, where did he come from, and who is he really?"

"Funny this never came up in the elections," Blossom remarked.

Sara snapped her fingers as the redhead exclaimed, "All those donations to local media moguls. He was bribing them to stay quiet. Literally burying the fact he had no past. Or none he wanted anyone to know about."

"So, if we find out who Mayor Tyler was before he came to Townsville, and we might find out who is really behind all of this craziness."

"Exactly. Girls, we have work to do," Blossom smiled somberly.

"Today I'll be busy. I'm taking the Professor to the capital today to deal with the federal charges against him."

"I thought he decided he was driving….."

"No way is he going anywhere without a bodyguard until we settle this," Betty huffed. "And while I'm in the city, I'll do a little more poking around into a certain mayor's supposed background."

"Smart idea," Sara agreed with a nod.

"So, what do I do," Bubbles asked quietly.

"Keep an eye on the stalker. See if he leads you to anything. Or anyone," Blossom suggested. "The old lady might just be more a part of this than we realize. But don't go anywhere without calling us first."

"Okay. But if he gets anywhere near my animals….."

"Send him home Powerpuff style," Betty suggested as the professor came into the room just then, still straightening his tie.

"Send who home," their father asked innocently.

"Oh, some vagrant that's been hanging around the zoo," Bubbles remarked innocently, casually making small fists as if imagining how she might sent that man home if he had really killed her beloved Stripey.

"Okay, we know what we have to do," Sara reminded them. "Let's get to work. And stay in touch," she added, checking her own cell phone Professor Utonium had modified for her, as he had for all the girls, to ensure no one could track or monitor it.

"Ready to go, professor," Betty smiled as she took a last look at the image of a squat, black man she had last seen miles away in another city. She did not think it was a coincidence. That old woman was involved, and if she could find out who she was, she might figure out what was really going on around them.

**PPG**

Harry smiled as he drove toward Townsville, a long, dark coat over his new costume. One that would finally bring him the respect he was due. One that would ensure the three, annoying little brats that were the bane of his existence would finally be put in their place.

Under his heel.

Literally, as he envisioned shrinking them to the size of cockroaches, and crushing their tiny bodies.

He considered shrinking them out of existence, but if Utonium survived, then they would, too. And if they survived, he had little doubt that sooner or later they would return. No, better to finally and completely crush them he thought, smiling coldly at the mental image of stepping on that irritating brunette most of all.

And Utonium. Maybe he would keep him alive. Just for a little longer. But only so he could put the unnaturally blessed freak in a jar, and force him to finally yield all his secrets. Then no one would be able to deny that he, Dr. Harold Buchannan, was not the premiere genius of all time. He would have it all. And in only…..thirty-two more minutes, he would taking back his own once and for all.

He could not wait.

**PPG**

"Is something wrong," Professor Utonium asked as they drove back from the city later that day.

"I don't know. Something is really odd about all this, professor," she sighed as she sat back in her seat, eyeing the files she had copied from the archives in town. "Even with all the unlikely connections, Tom Tyler can't just have come from nowhere. So where did he come from, and how did he manage to hide everything about himself so well? I mean, according to everything I found, it's like he just popped into being just over six years ago, and that's just….."

"Impossible," her father chuckled. "Look in the mirror, Buttercup," he still called her. "That's exactly how you were born."

Betty frowned. "Are you saying….?"

"Well, I rather doubt I'm the only genius that discovered a new form of life, sweetheart. Remember those boys that used to give you such trouble? Then there were the fake Powerpuffs. And….."

"Okay, okay. But….if he was….created? Then by who, and why?"

"Well, it's starting to look like he was put in place just to cause you girls trouble," he told her, stating the obvious.

Betty frowned even as she nodded. "You're right. It's like he was made just for that purpose. Only we were broken up for years, and not doing anything, so he didn't have to do anything either. Only now…."

"Now that you're back together, it seems he's getting down to business."

"Well, someone is. Still, if he was made….. A DNA test. If we could test his DNA," she mused.

"You'd need a sample."

"No problem," she smiled as she sat eyeing the files. "And it might even tell us who made him, and how."

"Well, I remember there is still a lot of missing Chemical X out there," he admitted to her. "Even the government never found it all."

Betty turned and eyed him again. "You never did tell us how you created that stuff."

"Didn't I," he asked.

"Professor," she growled.

"Okay. I'll tell you. But you have to swear to never try to replicate it, or use it yourself. It's too dangerous."

"Pinky swear," she grinned impulsively, and held out her hand.

He chuckled, and raised his own right pinky as they drove on toward home as the professor began to relay a story she had never heard. One about a certain meteorite, strange mineral compositions, and a nannite-based experiment that accidentally 'contaminated' his own attempt at creating life. Betty listened to every word, knowing she had certainly not heard this version before now.

**PPG**

"It's time," a singsong voice drawled as the lean, handsome mayor turned from his mirror in his office to look around for the source of that exasperating voice.

"You again? I told you before, I am no longer interested in working with you. I quit. I am done. I have completely terminated any sort of agreement that we might have once had," Tom Tyler ranted as he glared at the few shadows around him in his bright, Spartan office decorated to present himself as a no-nonsense type of modern man.

"Just remember, _mayor_," Him's sly voice cooed. "What I've given can be taken away. So you had better cooperate. Or else."

The mayor growled, but shook his head.

"Fine," he spat. "But just this last time."

"Good. Good. I knew you could be reasonable," the voice tittered.

"What do you want?"

"I want you ready to declare the Powerpuffs guilty of any and every crime you can imagine. I want you to personally try and sentence them. And then I want you to put them in jail for a very, very, very long time."

"Hmmmm. Well, I rather like the sound of that. They've been more than a bother again of late. They deserve a permanent time out. But the media is starting to sympathize with them. How am I supposed to….."

"Don't worry. I'll arrange the justification for you. You just have to be in position to take them into custody. Then everything will finally fall into place."

"What does that mean? You sound like you've been planning this for years? And what kind of justification…..?"

"Never you mind, your honor," the mocking tone drawled as the presence faded even as it spoke. "Just be ready. And don't disappoint me. You would not like what happens to people that disappoint _me_!"

"Hmmph. Showoff," the mayor glowered as the laughter echoed behind him as he went to shut a window when he noted the cool breeze blowing in that disturbed the orderly stack of papers on his very orderly desk.

For if there was one thing Thomas T. Tyler could not abide, it was disorder.

**PPG**

"It's definitely Chemical X," Betty told the professor as they eyed the DNA sample taken from the mayor's office that very afternoon.

"I have to agree," he nodded. "But the DNA isn't quite right. It's obviously not completely human, but….I'm not sure what it is, to be honest."

"We'd better figure out….."

"Betty," Bubbles burst into the lab, looking frantic. "We've got more trouble."

"What is it," they both asked as the blonde looked genuinely upset.

"Harry," a grim Blossom said as she appeared behind her sibling. "He's using some kind of weird gloves to shrink everyone and everything around him. He's turning Townsville into a toy city!"

"The quantum generator," Professor Utonium realized. "He must have figured it out."

"Or forced someone to help him, more likely," Betty spat.

"The point is, he's turning everyone into tiny dolls, and threatening to start stomping them if we don't give up. He's all over the television," Blossom told her. "But if we go…."

"The mayor finally has us for breaking his stupid statutes."

"What will you do," their father asked them as he eyed the three somber girls.

Betty spoke first.

"The right thing," she said, and vanished in a blur of speed. A moment later she was back in her new green costume Bubbles had brought to her that day not long ago. "Well," she asked her sisters with a familiar mischievous grin. "You coming?"

Both girls smiled, and vanished briefly before they were back as colorfully clad in their own distinctive colors a moment later.

"Be careful, girls. If he hits you with that beam, he could turn you into toys, or shrink you right out of this world."

"He'll never get the chance," Blossom told him.

"Got that right," Betty agreed.

"Let's go pound him," Bubbles shrieked.

All three of them stared at her.

"What? It's what we all want to do," the blonde stated less than innocently.

"Oh, yeah," Betty smiled.

And then all three vanished in a burst of color that left Professor Utonium standing alone, and looking more than a little thoughtful as he turned to regard the DNA smaple in front of him. Cocking his head, he stared hard, then blinked.

"Could that be…..?"

He shook his head. "No. It couldn't be. Could it?"

He scowled anew as he reached for a genetic codex he kept, and declared, "There's one way to find out for sure." And began to flip pages.

**PPG**

Only their powerful hearing let them hear the screams beneath the other screams as people fled the madman shrinking the city as he headed directly for the courthouse. Behind him, the tallest city building was now barely two foot tall. The largest people barely a quarter inch. Before him, people ran screaming as they saw what was happening to their friends and neighbors.

Only there was nowhere to run as the grayish-silver ray exploded again and again, turning the city into a lunatic's toy.

Harry laughed manically as he raised a hand with a thick, squarish gauntlet on it, the larger part of it on his wrist the source of the actual energies he was unleashing. He watched as a library slowly shrank, the people in and around the building with it, and laughed all the more as the rapidly dwindling fools tried to run away.

"Hey, fruitcake," a stocky, older woman growled from his left. "Slow down, or there won't be anyone left to use to blackmail those power bitches when they show."

Harry turned to face the woman who had five big, burly men with her, and laughed. "And who are you supposed to be, grandma," he mocked, lifting his left hand to aim her way.

"Why, Harry," a familiar voice cackled from behind him. "She's your new friend, and partner in this little endeavor. Between the two of you, you're going to finally bring down our mutual enemies, and leave this world truly helpless as we carve it up for our common pleasure and profit."

He turned to see a weird, red and black figure glide around him, smirking hugely, to approach the old bat before he…. She?…..slid a clawed hand over that husky woman's shoulder like he was embracing a lover. "And you do want someone left to appreciate your victory, don't you," Him asked knowingly.

"You have a point," Harry agreed, not liking the looks of the crimson freak one bit, but unable to deny that 'he' had helped him get this far.

"What's with the fruity costume," one of the big thugs demanded as he eyed Harry. "You look like some kiddy cartoon villain," he sniggered.

"I'll show you a cartoon," Harry hissed, and aimed at the dimwitted creature.

"Now, now. Save your energy, boys," Him suggested. "Even those girls won't take much longer before they decide to break the law, and come flying in here to play hero."

"Especially those girls," Harry spat.

"And when they do," the red freak cackled, "They are going to finally be mine!"

"Mine," Granny hissed.

"Mine," Harry hissed back as they began to argue over who had the right to finally crush those three unnatural girls.

**PPG**

"I don't know," Blossom frowned, eyeing the woman standing in front of them who had flagged them down as they flew over.

"It does sound….."

"Look," Emily told them, "I know you have no reason to trust me, and less reason to like me, but I'm being honest. My Gran is setting you up for Harry, _and_ Him. And the mayor has an entire army of cops just waiting for you to show up. I heard them plotting the whole thing just the other night when they came in for coffee.

"But why wouldn't the mayor stop Harry from attacking the people?"

Emily turned and stared sorrowfully at her.

"Because the mayor is in _his_ pocket, too," Betty realized.

"That'd be my guess. Gran always talked about seeing my gramps again, but even I never figured she was talking to that…..creep. I don't know if it's really gramps, or if this is just another trick that sleaze is pulling, but…..I couldn't let you guys just fly in there blind."

"Why not," Bubbles asked flatly.

"Well, I'm really serious about starting over, and my therapist says I should work on making amends for my past if I'm going to really heal my own spirit. Stuff like that. And….this just didn't feel right to me. So, I just wanted you know what you were flying into. Maybe….in some small way, try and make up for some of what I did to you before."

"Betty," Blossom asked.

"Actually, it does make sense. Him kind of ties a lot of strings together. You know how that freak is always playing games with people's lives. This is just like something he would be doing."

"Not that it matters. Harry is still hurting people, and we have to stop him," Blossom shot.

"I agree. But storming in like the old days is a good way to have the mayor call out his army of police," Betty told her. "We need another tact. Something they can't use as an excuse to claim we broke the law."

"How about a game," Bubbles suddenly grinned.

"A….game," both sisters asked as they looked at the smiling blonde.

"Sure. Like the old days," Bubbles grinned. "So……. _Tag_! You're it," she said, and slapped Betty before flying off.

Blossom and Betty both stared at one another, then their scowls slowly turned to grins as they laughed brightly. "She's brilliant," they both said, and Betty turned to nod at the apparently reformed Sedusa. "Thanks, Em," she said, and shot into the air after her sister.

"If you're really serious," Blossom told her, "Then good luck." And then she was gone.

"You, too," Emily said, hoping they did succeed.

**PPG**

The sound of a matched set of sonic booms overhead stopped the arguing on the ground as the trio looked up to see the zigzagging streaks of color overhead.

"At last," Harry grinned, and armed his quantum channelers.

But the girls flew right past them at super-speed, laughing as they chased not him, but each other.

"I almost got you," Blossom shouted as Betty turned hard, dove down, and then streaked donw an alley as she shouted back, "Almost doesn't count!"

"What are they doing," Granny frowned, genuinely astonished at seeing the use of speed and power she had never quite envisioned as the blonde suddenly slammed into a brick wall when she turned to duck her redheaded sister, and kept going through it.

"Nyah-nyah, can't catch me," the blonde laughed as she streaked high over the city.

"What _are_ they doing," Him frowned as they all watched the trio ignore the panicked citizens of all sizes, the ravaged city, and continued to seemingly dance across the sky.

Just before the blonde suddenly got slapped so hard the thunderclap of the blow was enough to shatter glass, and deafen them before she dropped so fast and hard she landed in a crater she created not four foot from Harry who gaped as the blonde in a short blue skirt and top rose to dust herself off, giggling as if she had not just dropped out of the sky like a stone.

"What are you stupid brats doing," Douglas demanded, never the patient sort.

"We're playing tag," she beamed at him as Harry didn't think to target her, still too busy gaping as the pair overhead laughed down at her. "Wanna play," she asked guilelessly.

"Oh, I do," Harry recovered enough to sneer as he raised both arms to aim at her.

"Goody," Bubbles laughed lightly, and fly around him so fast his head almost snapped trying to keep up with her.

Then, before he could react, he felt his arms grabbed, and pointed skyward as he heard, "Tag," in a playful voice that came from behind as the girl giggled as two powerful hands clamped down on his channelers. "You're it."

"No! You don't know what you've done!"

"Wanna bet," Betty growled from where she and Blossom landed not too far away as Harry stood beside Granny and a few of her goons. The bizarre, crimson creature known only as Him skulking behind them both, glaring at the three of them as Bubbles rejoined her sisters.

"I'll send you into the…."

"Harold, _no_," Granny and Him both shrieked as his crushed bands began to glow brightly.

And spark violently.

There was a violent, soundless explosion, and a rush of air like a balloon popping, and then all three of them were gone. The thugs with them looked around, and began to nervously back away.

"And _that_ is what we call 'saving the day,'" Betty grinned, dusting her hands as she grinned at the smoldering crater in front of them as Bubbles joined her and Blossom.

"No! This cannot be," Tom Taylor shouted over the rising cheers of the now relieved citizens around them as he rushed out from City Hall, having been awaiting a signal yet to be given.

"Can, and is, y'jerk," Betty turned to tell him. "And as soon as the professor heats up our own Quantum generator, we will be bringing back all those people and buildings Harry shrank."

"You bet," Blossom agreed, making the people gathering around them cheer all the more.

"Stop! Stop cheering them! They are criminals. Law-breakers. They have not followed the law. They have broken it," the mayor babbled as he stalked down the steps of city hall toward them. "Arrest them. Arrest them now! This is my town. My city. My rules. I command you. For I am the mayor. The leader. The one in charge!"

"Uh, girls," Bubbles frowned as she slowly turned to look at the rapidly shrinking mayor who was starting to get a lot hairier, too. "Is it just me, or is…..?"

"For I am…..!"

"_Mojo Jojo_," all three exclaimed as they looked at the very hairy man who wasn't a man dressed in a suit suddenly three sizes too large as he began to take on more bestial traits as his cranium began to swell unnaturally.

"So, you _weren't _dead," Betty smirked, curling up her right fist.

"And suddenly, a lot of these goofy laws make a lot more sense," Blossom realized.

The people around them that had been cheering now started to murmur and jeer as Betty stalked up to the now completely transformed mayor who was very obviously their old enemy Mojo.

"Now, Betty," he raised his hands in protest. "Don't do anything precipitous. I am, after all, still the mayor….."

Betty turned to the crowd, and asked, "All those in favor of impeaching the mayor?"

"Aye," the crowd shouted loudly.

Betty turned to look back down at him, cracking her knuckles as she said, "By the way, monkey-man. The name. Is. _Buttercup_," she spat, and slammed a hard fist into the mutated chimp's jaw, sending him flying. He slammed into the side of the courthouse, slid down to land in the flowers, and stayed there.

She turned to her sisters, grinning as they high-fived one another, and Blossom said, "Let's go get the professor, and his machine."

"Right."

The town exploded in cheers again as the three flew toward home, feeling that once again, all was well in their home.

**PPG**

"Now you show up," Granny growled as the woman looked up from her bunk in the cell of the state prison where she had been ignobly dragged after those brats had restored her and Harry to their natural size only to have them arrested.

Of them all, Him had been the only one to simply vanish when Harry's channelers overloaded, and exploded. They ended up the size of ticks. Him had just disappeared. As usual.

"Now, now, now, my dear," the ever-smirking creature cooed. "You should be as happy as I am. After all, this is exactly what I was hoping for when I first began crafting this plan."

"You wanted those freaks to beat us, and end up heroes again," she hissed in disbelief. "Even Tyler was exposed, and now that goody-goody Bellum was named mayor in a special election."

"Precisely," Him cooed.

"Why?"

"Because, silly goose. Corrupting and destroying three ordinary girls is not half so fun and deliciously evil as corrupting and destroying three heroines. But, you know all about that. Shouldn't you, Madame Darke?"

"That name means nothing to me," she glowered. "That life is over."

"Poor little fallen angel," Him cooed. "But don't worry. This is far from over. Soon enough, you'll have plenty of company. Plenty of company. Trust me," Him cackled as the scarlet and black shadow faded before the guard could reach her cell.

"Lights out, old woman," the burly man growled.

Granny just stared, and for the first time since she was arrested, smiled.


End file.
